•CHE  noon 


QF 


DRAGON 

by 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

IN  MEMORY  OF 
EDWIN  CORLE 

PRESENTED  BY 
JEAN  CORLE 


THE  DOOR  OF  THE 
DOUBLE  DRAGON 


The  blood  rushed  to  her  head;  her  whole  body  was  strained.     The 
door  was  gradually  closing. 


THE  DOOR  OF   THE 
DOUBLE    DRAGON 

A  Romance  of  the  China 
of  Yesterday  and  To-day 


BY 
HECTOR    BLANDING 


Frontispiece  by 
GEORGE  W.   GAGE 


NEW  YORK 
W.  J.  WATT  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHER 


COPYRIGHT,  1920,  BY 
J.  WATT  &  COMPANY 


pnrss  or 

BRAUNWORTH  A  CO. 

BOOK    MANUFACTURERS 

BROOKLYN.    N.   Y. 


CONTENTS 

•prologue 

CHAPTER  I  PAGE 

AT  THE  COUNTRY  CLUB i 

CHAPTER  II 
BLACK  WRENNE ..,.«..,..,     12 

Book  %  JttBt 

CHAPTER  I 
To  PAINT  THE  PORTRAIT  OF  A  PRINCE 23 

CHAPTER  II 

THE    SLEEPING   SERPENT    WITH   THE    STRANGLING 
TAIL 37 

CHAPTER  III 
BLACK  WRENNE  Bows  TO  BROWN  BESS 45 

CHAPTER  IV 
HE  OF  THE  WHITE  BANNER 58 

CHAPTER  V 
THE  SEVEN  THOUSAND  EYES  OF  BUDDHA 64 

CHAPTER  VI 
THE  CLIMAX  OF  CONSPIRING  CIRCUMSTANCES 73 


2038477 


vi  CONTENTS 

IBank  thr 

CHAPTER  I  PAGE 

AN  AUDIENCE  WITH  THE  SON  OF  HEAVEN  ........     93 

CHAPTER  II 
CAPTAIN  KOMOTO  is  PROMISED  THE  GOLDEN  KITE    102 

CHAPTER  III 
IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  THE  INVISIBLE  DEITY  ........  na 

CHAPTER  IV 

ASSASSINS  WHO   SHOULD   BE   PURVEYORS   of  THE 
POOR  ........................................  125 

CHAPTER  V 
A  QUESTION  OF  ETHICAL  RIGHT  AND  WRONG  ......  138 

CHAPTER  VI 
THE  PAGODA  ON  THE  LAKE  ......................  146 


thr 

CHAPTER  I 
THREE  GOLDEN  ARROWS  ........................   159 

CHAPTER  II 
WITHIN  THE  DRAGON-GUARDED  TEMPLE  ..........  170 

CHAPTER  III 
CLASH  OF  STEEL  IN  CANDLE-LIGHT  ...............  179 

CHAPTER  IV 
SIGNALS  OF  CONSPIRACY  .........................  194 


CONTENTS  vii 

CHAPTER  V  PAGE 

DRUGGED 201 

CHAPTER  VI 
THE  PLEASURE-PALACE 1 06 

Bank  %  Jourth 

CHAPTER  I 
Two  DIAMOND  PARROTS 223 

CHAPTER  II 
THE  HOUSEHOLD  SQUADRON  RIDE  LATE 246 

CHAPTER  III 
THE  SECRET  STAIRWAY 255 

CHAPTER  IV 
THROUGH  THE  PEKING  GATES  AGAIN 269 

CHAPTER  V 
BY  HER  BEDSIDE 272 

CHAPTER  VI 
TOGETHER  ON  THE  GRAND  CANAL 280 


PROLOGUE 


AT  THE  COUNTRY-CLUB 

IT  had  been  snowing  steadily  all  day,  the  fall  ceasing 
only  with  the  dusk.     The  Flemish  villages  and 
Queen  Anne   cottages   along  Club   Road   were 
festooned  with  the  flakes  and  in  front  of  the  Ren- 
shaws'  some  boys  had  built  a  snow- fort.     The  Ren- 
shaws  always  closed  their  house  for  the  winter  and 
went  into  town,  so  that  there  was  no  one  to  disturb 
the  fort-builders. 

One  of  the  builders,  a  Hampden  hoodlum,  who 
hung  about  the  gates  of  The  Roland  Park  Country 
Club  to  hold  horses  or  buckle  on  skates,  had  joined 
the  youngsters  and  was  directing  their  efforts.  The 
snow-fort  finished,  he  elected  to  stay  behind  it  with 
the  larger  boys  and  to  make  of  the  others  an  attacking 
party.  The  latter  having  suffered  severely  for  some 
time  now  demanded  that  they  become  the  fort's  de- 
fenders. This  project  falling  through  they  began  the 


2     DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

manufacture  of  munitions  pending  an  emergency. 
Meanwhile  there  were  the  passers-by. 

A  number  of  people  passed,  but  they  were  mem- 
bers of  the  club,  personally  known  by  both  hoodlum 
and  boys.  It  was  not  deemed  wise  to  offend  these. 
A  negro  servant,  however,  not  so  fortunate,  fled  to- 
ward Roland  Avenue  with  smarting  face.  At  the 
corner  she  paused  to  hurl  back  at  her  youthful  as- 
sailants heated  promises  that  the  Olympians  should 
soon  be  made  aware  of  their  sons'  associations  with 
"that  there  po'  white  trash." 

The  hoodlum  recognizing  and  hotly  resenting  this 
characterization  of  himself  by  one  of  a  subject  race, 
scowled  heavily  and,  reaching  down  and  digging  up 
a  large  and  jagged  stone,  made  a  compact  ball  of  snow 
about  it  and  promised  darkly: 

"Wait  'til  that  dinge  comes  back." 

Some  of  the  boys  demurred.  It  was  not  fair  to 
put  stones  in  snowballs.  "You  might  hurt  somebody, 
Jerry,"  urged  a  flaxen-haired  youngster  in  a  Scotch 
cap. 

"Oh,  mamma!"  jeered  Jerry. 

The  flaxen-haired  youngster  pulled  his  Scotch  cap 
over  his  eyes  and  stalked  away,  followed  by  several  of 
his  friends. 

"Let  the  sissies  go." 


PROLOGUE  3 

Jerry,  a  youth  of  some  sixteen  years,  large  framed, 
heavy- jawed,  laughed  mockingly,  and  rolled  the  snow 
about  the  jagged  stone  all  the  tighter. 

The  hoodlum  and  his  like,  many  of  whom  hung 
about  the  gates  of  the  Caddie  House  of  the  country 
Club,  were  a  different  species  from  the  Roland  Park 
boys.  He  came  from  Hampden,  a  factory  suburb  a 
mile  or  so  nearer  the  city.  Compelled  to  attend  school 
by  what  his  kind  and  their  parents  resented  as  un- 
reasonable laws  preventing  them  from  profitable 
employment  until  they  were  fifteen,  they  were  found 
in  the  vicinity  of  Club  Road  after  school  hours,  for 
here  were  to  be  had  odd  jobs;  and  often  steady 
afternoon  work  as  caddies  and  toboggan  attendants. 
Jerry  had  held  both  jobs  but  had  been  discharged  for 
insolence  to  club  members.  "Wasn't  he  just  as  good 
as  they  was?"  On  the  other  hand  he  was  savagely 
indignant  at  any  similar  claim  of  equality  on  the  part 
of  fellow-caddies  of  the  color  of  the  fleeing  servant 
because  of  whose  criticism  he  was  reserving  the 
jagged  stone. 

Misfortune  had  made  a  different  reservation  for 
that  stone-snowball  which  Jerry  was  now  carefully 
soaking  in  the  gutter  the  ice  coating  of  which  Jerry 
had  broken.  The  water-soaked  snow  rapidly  con- 
gealed ;  long  before  the  servant  left  the  grocery  with 


4     DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

basket  filled,  the  snow  had  frozen  until  it  was  as  hard 
without  as  the  stone  within. 

Returing  at  the  head  of  his  wildly  whooping 
band  from  an  enforced  retreat  by  two  department- 
store  delivery  boys,  whom  misfortune  had  compelled 
to  leave  parcels  at  the  club,  Jerry  spied  a  person 
for  whom  it  had  been  decreed  that  murderous  pro- 
jectile of  his  should  have  been  made. 

"Hefting"  the  hard,  heavy,  stone  snow-ball  Jerry 
could  no  longer  deny  himself  the  pleasure  of  hurting 
somebody.  Especially  as  that  somebody  looked  unable 
to  avenge  himself. 

"There's  our  meat,  fellows,"  he  yelled  in  savage 
abandon.  "To  the  right,  wheel!  'Tenshun!  Aim  at 
the  enemy — the  Chink." 

It  was  an  odd,  pathetic  little  figure  that  Jerry  in- 
dicated— an  undersized  Chinese.  A  quality  of  white- 
stockinged  ankle  showed  beneath  a  rich  and  capacious 
robe  of  heavily  quilted  Shantung  silk.  On  his  head 
was  a  little  black  skull-cap. 

"Aim  at  that  red  button,"  whispered  Jerry.  "There 
on  his  cap.  See  who  can  knock  it  off  first;  one,  two 
three!  Fire!" 

The  Chinese  continued  to  approach,  hands  huddled 
tight  in  the  long  loose  sleeves  of  his  robe,  head  bent. 


PROLOGUE  5 

Unaware  of  his  peril;  unaware  indeed  of  any  on- 
lookers, he  was  too  absorbed  in  his  own  dreary 
thoughts  to  heed  the  sudden  "Fire!"  So  that  the 
attack  on  him  came  so  suddenly  and  unexpectedly 
that  he  made  no  attempt  to  protect  himself. 

Ball  after  ball  of  the  hard  snow  struck  him,  sting- 
ing ears  and  nose,  breaking  against  his  teeth  as  his 
mouth  gaped  open.  Vividly-colored  streaks  of  light 
blinded  him. 

Stunned,  he  stumbled  and  fell  to  his  knees,  his 
hands  instinctively  upraised. 

This  was  a  sport  after  Jerry's  mean  coward  heart ; 
inflicting  pain  upon  the  helpless.  He  had  waited, 
gloating,  for  the  others  to  disconcert  and  dismay  with 
their  snow-balls  until  the  victim  would  be  sufficiently 
stunned  to  be  still  and  his  own  aim  thus  rendered 
absolutely  accurate.  Not  until  then  did  he  fling  his 
murderous  missile. 

It  struck  the  little  Chinaman  in  the  exact  center  of 
his  forehead.  The  others,  each  of  whom  had  com- 
pressed another  handful  of  snow,  paused,  then  flung 
them  away.  A  cry  of  alarm  arose.  The  Chinese  had 
staggered  against  the  Renshaws'  brick  wall  clutching 
at  the  dead  ivy.  He  brought  down  two  hands ful  as 
he  fell,  a  long  gash  in  his  forehead  gushing  out  the 


6     DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

veriest  flood.  The  sanguinary  red  stained  his  fore- 
head, ran  into  his  eyes,  making  him  a  sightless  thing. 
His  mouth  was  a  red  smear. 

The  boys  drew  back,  some  angry,  all  afraid,  one 
or  two  looking  accusingly  at  Jerry. 

"You  cowards!    You  dirty,  despicable  cowards!" 

A  whirlwind  was  among  them.  They  were  being 
bowled  about,  falling  right  and  left  as  a  bowling-ball 
scatters  ninepins. 

"Who  did  it?  Who  did  it?  Oh,  you  nasty  dirty 
little  rats.  Don't  try  to  run  off,  you,  Bobby  Dalgren. 
You  either,  Vincent  Bates." 

Now  that  Jerry  heard  the  voice,  instead  of  feeling 
the  mob-terror  of  his  young  companions,  he  began  to 
snigger  insolently.  After  all  it  was  only  a  girl.  He 
looked  closer:  why  it  was  only  a  damn'  Reel. 
He  began  to  jostle  his  way  toward  her.  Old  helpless 
Chinese  and  young  helpless  girls — anything  helpless — 
was,  as  Jerry  expressed  it,  "his  meat." 

"Hey !  what's  all  this  here  ?"  he  wanted  to  know. 

Had  he  taken  a  longer  look  at  the  blazing  brown 
eyes  of  the  girl  who  had  just  dismounted  from  the 
horse,  whose  head  she  had  turned  in  among  them — 
which  was  why  it  had  seemed  a  whirlwind — he  would 
have  hardly  dared  dismiss  "Brown  Bess"  as  "a  damn' 
kid."  True,  he  was  a  year  or  so  older  but  she  was 


PROLOGUE  7 

curiously  well-muscled  and  well- formed;  girls  of 
fourteen  are  apt  to  be  weak,  overgrown,  gangling. 

This  one  wasn't.  Had  it  not  been  for  a  crop  of 
tangled  brown  curls,  negligently  drawn  back  and  tied 
with  ribbon  at  the  nape  of  the  neck;  that,  and  her 
unmistakably  girlish  voice,  she  might  easily  been  mis- 
taken for — rather  too  good-looking  a  boy.  Especially, 
as  below  the  skirts  of  her  riding-coat  appeared  a  sec- 
tion of  Bedford  cord  riding  breeches  laced  tightly 
at  her  thin  knees. 

"Who  did  it?  Come  on  now.  You'd  better  tell 
me,  Ben  Cavendish." 

She  addressed  the  boy  of  the  flaxen  curls  who  had 
withdrawn  at  the  sight  of  Jerry's  jagged  stone.  He 
was  now  rejoining  the  party,  his  eyes  reflecting  some- 
thing of  the  angry  scorn  in  those  of  Bess  Courtney's. 

But  they  did  not  have  the  same  ominous  gleam. 

Scenting  an  ally,  she  asked  less  threateningly: 
"Who  did  it,  Ben?"  Their  two  heads,  flaxen  poll  and 
brown  crop  of  curls,  had  been  bent  over  the  en- 
sanguined face  of  the  unconscious  Oriental  where  he 
lay,  strangely  and  pathetically  still.  Ben  Cavendish's 
face  caught  something  of  the  same  red  stain  as  the 
girl's,  whose  color  blazed  high  through  her  oddly 
brown  skin. 

Brown  skin,  not  tanned  but  brown;  brown  eyes — 


8     DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

red-brown  like  her  chestnut  crop  of  curls;  it  was  no 
wondered  they  called  little  Miss  Courtney  "Brown 
Bess." 

"I'll  tell  you,"  said  little  Flaxen-Poll  quietly.  The 
color  had  fled  his  cheeks  now;  they  were  strangely 
pale,  for  he  was  remembering.  Is  it  strange  with 
Jerry  scowling  at  him,  Jerry  the  best-known  bully  of 
small  boys  between  Roland  Park  and  Hampden;  the 
one  most  skilled  in  the  tortures  of  twisted  wrists  and 
bent  back  head  ? 

"Tell  me,  Bennie." 

The  little  boy's  forefinger  straightened  out  as  it  in- 
dicated the  sullen-eyed  Jerry,  who,  arms  hanging 
gorilla-like,  moved  a  pace  or  two  toward  his  small 
accuser. 

But  Bentinck  Cavendish  had  the  blood  of  many 
splendid  sires  behind  him  and  although  his  voice 
trembled,  he  still  accused: 

"We  were  only  only  throwing  snow-balls,  Bess. 
Honest  we  were.  He  put  a  stone  in  his.  That's  why 
I  quit  playing  with  him.  None  of  us  had  stones  in 
ours,  did  we,  fellows?" 

They  answered  a  confirming  chorus ;  then,  they,  too, 
pointed  out  the  hulking  fellow.  With  a  snarl  he  came 
at  them.  The  next  moment  a  riding-crop  came  at 
him.  With  a  roar  he  threw  himself  at  its  wielder. 


PROLOGUE  9 

But,  her  eyes  blazing,  her  sturdy  arm  began  to  rise 
and  fall  so  fast  that  eyes  could  not  follow.  It  stung 
him  again,  again  and  again.  Despite  his  rushes  he 
never  got  near  enough  to  pluck  it  from  its  wielder  and 
turn  it  against  her.  Soon  he  was  ceasing  to  rush  and 
was  retreating,  raising  his  voice  in  the  bellow  of  a 
savage  but  cowed  animal.  Then,  quite  suddenly,  a 
blow  was  miscalculated,  and  the  riding-crop's  snake- 
wood  handle,  instead  of  its  leather  loop,  thudded 
against  his  hard  skull. 

He  dropped  like  a  butcher-stricken  ox. 

"You've  killed  him,  Bess!    You've  killed  him!" 

The  girl  put  out  a  small  spurred  boot  and  pushed 
the  body  out  of  the  way.  "I  wish  I  had,"  she  said 
fiercely.  "The  low  coward." 

The  jingle  of  sleigh-bells  approaching  had  ceased 
when  the  thrashing  of  Jerry  began  and  a  sleigh  had 
pulled  up  at  the  curb.  A  blond  young  man  in  English 
tweeds  now  tossed  off  the  lap-robe  and,  throwing  the 
reins  to  his  companion,  approached  the  girl.  She  was 
kneeling  beside  the  prostrate  Chinese,  touching  his 
wound  with  a  bit  of  cambric  handkerchief.  One  tan 
gauntlet  had  been  flung  down  in  the  snow  while  she 
was  performing  this  errand  of  mercy;  the  stained 
riding-crop  lay  alongside.  The  blond  young  man 
picked  up  both. 


10    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

"Hello,  Bess!  Did  you  lay  him  out,  too?"  He  in- 
dicated the  Oriental. 

She  turned  and  frowned  at  him. 

"Oh!  You,  Frank!  I'm  glad  you've  come.  You 
see  what's  happened?  Who's  in  that  sleigh  with 
you  ?" 

"A  West  Point  cadet — Wrenne — in  Jim's  class." 

She  did  not  appear  interested.  "Will  you  and 
Mr.  Wrenne  carry  this  poor  man  to  your  sleigh,  and 
take  him  to  my  house.  Go  ahead,  Frank!  Don't 
stop  to  think  about  it." 

He  beckoned  Wrenne  and  between  them  the  Chinese 
was  helped  into  the  sleigh. 

"You'll  have  to  get  out,"  said  the  girl,  addressing 
the  West  Pointer.  "Go  back  to  the  club  and  wait 
till  Frank  has  taken  him  to  my  house.  Will  you  please 
hurry?" 

The  other  youth  got  out.  Emory  put  the  lap-robe 
about  the  Chinese,  chirruped  to  his  horse,  and  the 
sleigh  was  off.  The  girl's  horse,  which  had  been  stand- 
ing quite  quietly  during  the  whole  affair,  looked  at  his 
mistress  with  inquiring  eyes. 

"Come,  help  me  up,"  she  said  to  Wrenne. 

He  made  a  cup  of  his  palms,  into  which  she  put 
her  foot  for  the  slightest  second;  then,  with  a  salute 
of  her  riding-crop,  peltered  after  Emory,  leaving 


PROLOGUE  11 

Wrenne  with  a  confused  vision  of  tangled  brown 
curls,  healthy,  flushed  cheeks,  a  thin,  girlish  form, 
and  magnificent  eyes,  that  had  no  shrinking  in  them. 
He  watched  her  as  she  turned  into  Roland  Avenue, 
seemingly  a  part  of  her  brown  mare,  supple,  swaying. 
Then  he  turned  to  the  quiet  group  of  little  boys 
gathered  around  the  prostrate  Jerry. 


II 

BLACK  WRENNE 

JERRY  had  a  number  of  bruises,  and  one  cut. 
Industrious  rubbing  of  snow  had  had  its  effect, 
and  he  was  groaning  and  coming  out  of  his  un- 
consciousness. He  arose  to  look  into  the  eyes  of  young 
Hamilton  Wrenne. 

"Damn  that " 

Wrenne  had  a  curiously  dangerous  look  when  he 
chose.  Jerry  decided  not  to  be  explicit  in  his  damna- 
tion. He  slouched  off  toward  Roland  Avenue,  and 
Wrenne  went  back  to  the  Country  Club  to  join 
the  tea-drinking  crowd  that  sat  before  the  huge  brick 
fireplace,  where  great  logs  sputtered  and  crackled,  and 
sent  thousands  of  little  red  sparks  dancing  up  the 
chimney.  As  he  sat  there,  he  took  from  his  pocket 
a  bit  of  cambric  stained  with  blood.  He  stared  at  it 
for  some  time,  and  at  the  monogram  in  one  corner — 
"E.  G"  Presently  he  went  below  to  the  lavatory, 
and  washed  the  cambric  carefully  in  one  of  the  bowls. 
Wringing  it  out,  he  folded  it  and  put  it  back  in  his 
pocket. 

12 


PROLOGUE  15 

With  his  resumption  of  his  seat  by  the  fireplace, 
he  lit  a  cigarette  and  continued  to  meditate.  He 
did  not  know  any  of  the  people  at  the  club,  for  he 
was  not  a  Baltimore  man,  but  a  guest  of  Frank  Emory, 
whose  brother  had  been  in  his  class  at  the  Point. 

But  Hamilton  Wrenne  was  not  one  of  those 
strangers  to  go  unnoticed.  His  youth  was  not  patent. 
He  was  scarcely  past  his  twenty-first  birthday,  but 
he  looked  much  older,  due  to  his  excessive  darkness 
and  his  heavy  growth  of  beard  and  mustache,  which, 
although  carefully  shaven,  was  evident  in  the  hardness 
of  his  cheeks  and  upper  lip. 

He  was  dark  in  the  manner  peculiar  to  English- 
speaking  races.  No  one  would  have  mistaken  him 
for  a  Latin.  He  was  an  atavism,  a  recurrence  of  the 
strain  of  black  Danes  who  had  first  ravaged,  then  de- 
fended, England.  His  hair  was  quite  black,  his  com- 
plexion swarthy  but  clear.  He  had  a  hawk-nose  and 
firm  lips,  and  a  certain  boldness  was  in  his  dark-blue 
eyes.  Less  than  six  feet  in  height,  he  carried  him- 
self with  so  easy  an  erectness  that  he  appeared  taller. 

He  had  just  finished  his  cigarette  when  Frank 
Emory  returned,  and  drew  another  armchair  up  be- 
side him.  Stretching  his  arms,  he  ungloved  his  hands 
and  rubbed  them  before  the  fire. 


14    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

"Might  as  well  take  dinner  here  now,  Hammy,"  he 
said.  "It'll  be  too  late  to  get  home  in  time  to 
dress.  They're  to  have  the  Yarnells  and  some  others 
there  to-night,  and  they'll  expect  us  to  show  some 
open  front.  The  club  for  me." 

Wrenne  acquiesced.  They  sent  a  servant  for  a 
bill  of  fare,  ordered,  and  sat  back,  smoking. 

"Who  was  the  girl,  Frank?"  Wrenne  asked. 

"Oh!  Brown  Bess!  Miss  Elizabeth  Courtney,  if 
you  like  that  better.  Won't  she  be  a  lulu  when  she 
grows  up?  She's  only  about  sixteen  now !  Why,  she's 
Austin  Courtney's  sister.  Austin's  the  paying-teller 
at  the  Iron  Bank.  Awfully  good  family,  and  all  that 
— up  to  their  neck  in  debts.  Father  gambled  most  of 
it  away.  Relatives  had  some  pull,  and  got  Austin 
in  the  bank.  He's  one  of  your  sporty  kind.  Chorus 
girls  and  the  races,  and  bachelor  apartments  in  town. 
Lot  he  helps  the  family.  Don't  know  how  they  get 
credit.  Guess  the  relatives  help  some.  George  Gris- 
com's  wife  is  Mrs.  Courtney's  sister,  and  the  Gris- 
coms  could  give  every  man  in  Baltimore  a  couple  of 
dollars  apiece  and  not  know  they  had  spent  anything. 
Bess  is  going  to  make  good,  though." 

"She's  one  of  the  most  attractive  kids  I  ever  saw," 
Wrenne  remarked. 

"She  sure  is.     But  I  wasn't  thinking  about  her 


PROLOGUE  15 

looks.  She  paints,  you  know.  Now,  don't  make  that 
silly  joke — I  mean,  of  course,  that  she  paints  pictures." 

"At  her  age !" 

"Well,  I  should  say  so.  She's  been  drawing  ever 
since  she  was  a  tot.  Original  as  the  devil!  Made  a 
caricature  of  Jim  in  his  first  cadet  uniform,  four 
years  ago,  when  she  was  twelve.  I've  got  it  framed 
and  hung  up  in  my  room." 

"You  mean  to  tell  me  a  twelve-year-old  kid  did 
that !  Why,  I  thought  that " 

"Oh,  yes,  I  know.  Everybody  does.  We  all  con- 
cede that  Bess  is  a  wonder.  She's  gone  in  for  tech- 
nique lately,  and  works  every  day  at  the  Charcoal 
Club.  They've  got  a  man  there  who  used  to  be  with 
Julian,  and  who  took  some  prizes  at  the  Paris  salon. 
He's  enthusiastic  about  her.  Bess  is  the  girl  for  my 
money,  all  right.  And  she  can  ride  like  a  clipper, 
too.  She  follows  the  Elkridge  hounds  every  Satur- 
day, and  has  got  the  nerve  and  pluck  of  any  two 
average  men." 

They  went  below  to  wash  up,  and  later  one  of  the 
servants  informed  them  their  dinner  was  ready. 

"When  are  you  going  back  to  the  Point,  Hammy?" 
asked  Emory,  when  they  were  seated  by  one  of  the 
square-paned  windows  overlooking  the  snow-covered 
valley. 


1«    DOOR  OP  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

He  had  met  Wrenne  at  Union  Station  early  that 
afternoon,  and  taken  him  out  in  his  sleigh  before  going 
home.  Up  to  now  they  had  not  discussed  personali- 
ties. Emory  was  rather  surprised  that  Wrenne  was 
not  at  the  academy,  for  he  knew  the  winter  term  was 
on.  Wrenne  was  to  graduate  that  year  along  with 
Frank's  brother  Jim. 

"I'm  not  going  back  at  all,  Frank,"  answered 
Wrenn.  "I  was  booked  through  for  Washington,  but 
I  thought  I'd  drop  off  here  and  let  you  know  about 
my  case.  I  probably  sha'n't  see  you  again  for  years 
and  years.  I've  an  appointment  to-morrow  with  the 
Chinese  ambassador  in  Washington." 

"With  the  Chinese  ambassador!"  Emory  laid  down 
his  fork. 

"Prezactly!  He  is  to  give  me  my  appointment  as 
a  captain  in  the  Chinese  army!" 

Emory  stared  at  him,  not  well  pleased.  "Chucking 
the  service?" 

"Been  chucked,  Frank.  Oh,  it  was  done  very 
quietly!  The  superintendent  was  a  friend  of  dad's, 
and  he  allowed  me  to  resign.  They  caught  me  playing 
cards  after  taps.  It  was  my  room — the  rest  skedad- 
dled. Lights  up,  and  Cadet  Captain  Hamilton  Wrenne 
discovered  amid  playing-cards,  poker-chips,  beer- 
bottles,  and  cigarettes.  Case  for  courtmartial,  all 


PROLOGUE  17 

right ;  but  the  newspapers  have  been  making  so  beastly 
much  rot  over  hazing  and  other  things  that  the  court- 
martial  was  given  the  go-by.  The  superintendent 
asked  me  for  the  names  of  the  other  chaps.  In  case 
I  peached,  I  was  to  be  reduced  to  the  ranks,  lose  a 
lot  of  points  in  grade,  do  'sentry-go'  for  a  month  or 
so,  etcetera,  and  etcetera.  The  others  would  get  the 
same  dose.  In  case  I  refused  to  give  up,  I  would  lose 
the  chance  of  graduating." 

"Well?" 

Hamilton  Wrenne  smiled.  "Good  Lord,  Frank!" 
he  said,  protestingly. 

"Of  course,  old  man." 

Wrenne  drank  some  coffee.  "Well,  it  was  hard 
lines.  Dad  and  grandad  both  retired  generals,  and 
their  son  not  allowed  to  graduate!  Perhaps  it's  better 
they're  dead.  They'd  have  taken  it  pretty  hard.  But 
the  superintendent  was  decent.  He  let  me  resign,  and 
recommended  that  my  resignation  be  accepted.  Then 
he  took  me  aside,  and  told  me  the  Chinese  were  look- 
ing for  military-school  men  to  teach  their  soldiers  to 
fight  in  our  fashion.  I  made  application  and  was  ac- 
cepted. To-morrow  I  see  the  Chinese  ambassador, 
.get  my  appointment  and  expenses,  and  go  to  Peking." 

Emory  stretched  his  hand  across  the  table,  and 
touched  the  other's  fingers.  "Good  boy,  Hammy!" 


18    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

he  said  softly.  "But  it  was  hard  lines,  hard  lines. 
You  were  pretty  near  at  the  top  of  your  class,  too." 

"Only  one  man  ahead  of  me."  Wrenne  sat  silent 
for  a  minute,  then:  "Let's  have  a  drink,  Frank.  I 
can't  sign  checks  at  this  club,  or  I'd  order  one  myself. 
Don't  bother  about  me.  I'm  going  to  have  a  good  time 
out  there  in  China.  I  haven't  read  Kipling  for 
nothing.  Always  did  want  to  get  'somewheres  east  of 
Suez' — was  going  to  apply  for  a  Philippine's  scouts' 
commission.  Dare  say  I  can  climb  higher  in  this 
Chinese  service.  I'll  have  a  freer  hand,  anyhow." 

They  drank  to  one  another.  The  dinner  finished, 
they  lingered  over  their  cognac,  coffee,  and  cigarettes. 

"Where  does  Bess  Courtney  live?" 

"Only  about  two  blocks  from  here.  Curious  her 
taking  in  that  Chinese,  wasn't  it,  and  you  going  out 
to  China?  Do  you  know  what  that  fool  kid  did? 
She  took  him  right  into  the  house,  and  made  their 
nigger  John  undress  him  and  put  him  to  bed.  Then 
she  sent  for  the  doctor.  Curious  kid,  very.  Why 
do  you  ask?" 

Hamilton  Wrenne  had  taken  the  bit  of  cambric 
handkerchief  from  his  pocket.  He  was  rubbing  it 
between  his  fingers. 

"Like  to  drop  over  and  call?" 

For  a  moment  an  affirmative  trembled  on  Wrenne's 


PROLOGUE  19 

lips,  but  it  went  away  when  he  smiled.    It  was  rather 
a  sad  smile,  and  a  shake  of  the  head  accompanied  it 
"I'd  be  afraid  to,  Frank.    You  see,  I've  got  to  start 
for  China  to-morrow." 


BOOK  THE  FIRST 


CHAPTER  I 
To  PAINT  THE  PORTRAIT  OF  A  PRINCI 

The  favor  of  your  presence  is  requested  on 
the  evening  of  the  :8th  of  October  at 
Holmwood  House: 

To  meet 
His  Imperial  Highness: 

Prince  Chu'un. 
R.S.V.P.  to 
Mrs.  Patterson  Corby. 

THIS   form  of  invitation  was  in  the  hands  of 
every  one  of  the  slightest  note  in  Washington 
society  by  October  i.     And  no  one  failed  to 
send  an  acceptance.    It  was  not  often  that  even  Wash- 
ingtonians  were  able  to  meet  the  brother  of  an  em- 
peror; and  Prince  Chu'un  and  his  imperial  Chinese 
majesty  had  the  same  father. 

The  prince  was  distinguished  in  another  way.  He 
had  been  partly  educated  among  white  people.  Pat- 
terson Corby  had  been  his  classmate  at  Oxford,  and 
adjudged  him  as  a  very  decent  sort  of  chap  according 
to  any  standard.  It  was  a  distinct  plume  in  Mrs. 

£3 


24    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

Corby's  bonnet  that  she  should,  by  virtue  of  this 
previous  acquaintanceship  be  able  to  introduce  the 
prince  to  the  social  elect  of  Washington;  and  she  re- 
duced a  check-book  to  stubs  in  order  that  the  setting 
should  be  fit  for  the  jewel. 

Patterson  Corby  had  family,  and  his  wife  had 
wealth.  Holmwood  House  was,  therefore,  an  exceed- 
ingly desirable  place  to  which  to  be  invited.  It  was 
a  huge  pile  of  white  masonry  in  the  Renaissance  style 
— stone-walled,  iron-gated,  with  a  grassy  stretch  sur- 
rounding it,  an  Italian  pergola,  and  a  toy  lake.  Within, 
it  was  distinguished  by  lofty  ceilings,  marble  pillars, 
marvelous  frescos,  and  not  too  much  furniture.  The 
Patterson  Corbys  believed  in  long  stretches  of  space, 
in  order  that  their  priceless  fittings  might  be  properly 
appreciated. 

Mrs.  Patterson  Corby  received  in  the  Chinese  room. 
This  had  been  one  of  her  pet  projects ;  and  on  it  she 
had  lavished  much  wealth,  attention,  and  good  taste. 
It  now  fitted  quite  excellently  into  the  scheme  of 
things.  Its  frescos  might  have  been  the  wonder  of 
Chinese  artists,  for  they  carried  out  the  Oriental  style 
and  color  effect,  but  were  executed  with  the  strength 
and  originality  of  a  brain  not  so  old  as  the  Chinese. 
The  painted  silk  screens  were  from  the  same  hand. 
The  carved  chairs,  lacquered  columns,  swinging- 


A  PORTRAIT  OF  A  PRINCE  25 

lamps,  and  rare  rugs  were  only  to  be  rivaled  by  those 
of  the  imperial  palace  itself.  A  subtle  Oriental  per- 
fume pervaded  the  atmosphere. 

The  guests  began  to  arrive  at  a  little  after  nine, 
and  Mrs.  Corby  received  from  a  raised  platform,  the 
prince  by  her  side,  and  behind  him  a  man  in  the  dress 
uniform  of  the  Chinese  Army — gorgeous  yellow  with 
gold  frogging,  and  a  crucifix-hilted  sword  encrusted 
with  topazes.  There  were  several  decorations  on  his 
breast,  and,  as  he  stood  bareheaded,  he  held  in  his 
hand  a  mandarin  hat,  with  peacock  plume  and  crystal 
button.  They  saw  him  to  be  a  Caucasian. 

Prince  Chu'un  himself  was  an  exceedingly  hand- 
some but  weak-chinned  Oriental.  His  eyes  were  not 
oblique,  nor  was  his  nose  flat.  His  features  were  as 
regular  as  a  European's  might  have  been,  and  only 
his  saffron  complexion  marked  him  indubitably  a 
Chinese.  He  had  splendid,  enthusiastic  eyes,  and  a 
thin,  straight,  high-bridged  nose. 

Dressed  in  the  imperial  yellow,  with  a  Double- 
Dragon  interwoven  throughout  in  gold  threads,  his 
gown  belted  about  the  waist  by  a  golden-linked  belt, 
clasped  with  a  carven  topaz,  he  was  a  singularly  stately 
figure.  He  held  his  hat  in  his  hand,  in  deference  to 
the  European  custom,  as  he  smiled  upon  each  briefly 
presented  one,  turning  afterward  with  a  graceful 


26    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

sweep  of  the  body  to  the  uniformed  man  behind 
him: 

"My  aide-de-camp,  Colonel  Wrenne." 
And  the  guests,  mixing  with  one  another,  and  gen- 
erally failing  to  catch  the  name,  asked  one  another 
.who  that  striking-looking,  black-visaged  man  might  be. 
"His  aide-de-camp,  Colonel  Somebody." 
""But  he's  not  a  Chinese." 

"Who  said  he  was?     They  have  white  officers  in 
"the  Chinese  Army."    This  from  the  former  consul  to 
Shanghai. 

"Do  you  know  him?" 

But  the  consul  was  out  of  ear-shot. 

"His  name's  Wrenne,"  volunteered  the  daughter  of 
a  cabinet  official.  "He  called  on  father  the  other 
day." 

"Wrenne?  Well,  upon  my  soul,  if  it  isn't  old 
Hammy  Wrenne !"  An  army  lieutenant  speaking  this 
time. 

"Do  you  know  him?" 

"Rath-er!  My  cadet  captain.  Resigned  five  years 
ago.  Sad  story,  very.  Never  mind  that.  Heard  he 
went  out  to  China  and  quite  distinguished  himself. 
Must  have  a  word  with  old  Hammy." 

He  took  himself  off. 

But  it  was  not  particularly  easy  to  have  word  with 


A  PORTRAIT  OF  A  PRINCE  27 

Colonel  Hamilton  Wrenne  about  that  time.  The 
formal  presentation  of  the  guests  over,  the  prince  and 
his  body-guard  had  been  surrounded  by  half  a  score 
of  gushing  debutantes  and  earnest,  purposeful  ladies 
interested  in  Chinese  foreign  missions.  The  prince, 
who  spoke  very  good  English,  was  trying  to  answer 
the  purposeful  ladies,  while  Wrenne  managed  to  keep 
the  debutantes  at  bay. 

In  fact,  it  was  a  toss-up  as  to  which  one  of  the  two 
was  really  the  most  interesting.  This  Colonel  Wrenne, 
with  his  clear,  swarthy  skin,  his  intensely  black  hair 
and  bold  eyes,  his  tightly  fitting  uniform  and  shining 
boots  bringing  out  every  line  of  his  slim,  powerful 
form,  was  decidedly  out  of  the  ordinary.  An  Ameri- 
can, young,  the  confidant  of  the  prince.  There  was  a 
smack  of  the  mysterious  about  him  to  which  his  care- 
less air  and  clear-cut  features  gave  an  entrancing 
touch  of  the  debonair.  He  was  ready  with  his  tongue, 
too;  had  many  pleasant  gallantries  and  an  effective 
manner  of  rendition,  so  that  for  the  moment  the 
recipient  of  the  flattery  imagined  that  he  might  have 
implied  more  than  he  said. 

He  was  growing  decidedly  tired  of  it,  however, 
and  welcomed  the  news  that  the  grand  opera  tenor 
had  arrived.  He  sought  the  prince,  and  the  crowd 
followed  them  to  the  music-room,  those  who  could  not 


28    DOOR  OF_THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

get  in  making  the  best  of  it  in  the  conservatories 
outside. 

It  was  then  that  the  prince  managed  to  speak 
privately  for  a  moment  with  his  aide-de-camp. 

"You  saw  that  marvelous  artistry,  Black  Wrenne? 
You  saw  the  clouds  and  the  rice-fields  and  the 
dragons?  You  saw  the  Buddha  face?  Eh,  my 
Wrenne?" 

"You  mean  the  decorations  of  the  room  where  you 
were  received  ?" 

"No  other,  my  Wrenne.  Wonder  that  we  have  not 
the  artist  at  the  palace.  Chinese  he  surely  is;  but 
in  China  we  have  no  such  artist.  What  do  you  think, 
my  Black  Wrenne— eh?" 

"It's  good  work,"  the  aide-de-camp  responded. 
"I'll  ask  this  Corby  woman  the  name  of  the  artist 
when  De  Kurtz  finishes." 

The  tenor  was  vociferously  applauded.  He  put  one 
hand  on  his  little  fat  stomach,  bowed  so  that  the 
lights  shone  on  the  pomaded  remnants  of  his  hair, 
and  strutted  off. 

"If  he  could  only  sing  from  behind  a  screen!" 
sighed  a  female  voice  near  Wrenne.  He  turned,  and 
caught  a  glimpse  of  hair  like  burnished  copper,  with 
two  little  curls  loose  at  the  neck.  He  would  have 


A  PORTRAIT  OF  A  PRINCE  29 

followed,  for  some  vague  recognition  had  come  to  his 
mind.  The  prince's  hand  on  his  arm  detained  him. 

"The  turkey-cock  will  again  crow !"  said  the  prince. 

De  Kurtz  was  back  by  the  piano  for  his  encore. 
He  had  a  marvelous  voice;  and  the  proof  of  it  lay 
in  the  fact  that,  when  he  had  bowed,  many  took  deep 
"breaths.  Mrs.  Patterson  Corby  herself  had  forgotten 
the  prince  for  the  minute.  Now  she  was  by  his  side 
again,  but  the  wife  of  the  British  ambassador  had 
claimed  his  attention,  and  she  was  left  to  speak  to 
Hamilton  Wrenne.  She  said  something  unimportant 
about  De  Kurtz's  singing,  to  which  he  replied  in  kind, 
then: 

"Mrs.  Corby,  the  prince  admires  your  decorations 
in  the  Chinese  room." 

She  smiled  brilliantly. 

"Does  he?  I'm  terribly  glad.  I  think  they're 
simply  perfect.  He  must  meet  the  artist.  She's  here 
to-night." 

"She?" 

"Yes.     Isn't  it  odd?    A  girl  did  them.     And " 

"American?" 

"Yes.  She's  a  sort  of  relative  of  mine.  That  is, 
George  Griscom's  wife  is  her  aunt.  And  George  is 
a  cousin  of  mine.  Her  family's  awfully  hard  up. 
Nice  people,  though,  very !  Baltimoreans.  You  might 


30    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

know  them.  The Oh,  there  she  is.  Come  along, 

Colonel  Wrenne." 

He  followed  her  as  she  threaded  her  way  through 
couples  and  groups  straight  to  where  a  girl  in  a  white 
lace  gown  was  talking  to  a  lean,  bronzed  Englishman 
and  a  thin  Japanese.  Both  had  the  broad,  red  ribbon 
of  the  Diplomatic  Corps  across  their  shirt-fronts ;  and 
both  wore  a  multiplicity  of  glittering  orders  pinned  to 
the  lapels  of  their  dress  coats. 

"Miss  Courtney,  let  me  present  Colonel  Wrenne. 
Bess,  this  is  Prince  Chu'un's  friend.  They've  been 
admiring  your  work  tremendously." 

Remembering  her  duty  as  a  hostess,  Mrs.  Corby 
then  went  elsewhere. 

"Do  you  know  Captain  Abercrombie — and  Count 
Ito  Ugichi,  Colonel  Wrenne?" 

He  bowed  to  the  Englishman  and  nodded  to  the 
Japanese.  "Oh,  I  know  the  count,"  he  said.  His 
tone  did  not  imply  that  he  knew  anything  favorable 
about  him.  "How  d'ye  do,  captain?  Think  we  had 
you  up  at  Shan-hai-kuan  once,  didn't  we?  I  was 
sorry  I  wasn't  there.  Parker  spoke  of  you." 

"Oh,  quite  right.  To  be  sure.  Hamilton  Wrenne, 
eh?  Yes,  to  be  sure.  So  you're  old  Yuan-shi-Kai's 
pet — what?  The  man  who  put  down  the  rebellion 
in  Cheh-li  ?  I  say,  come  to  the  club  after  this  is  over, 


A  PORTRAIT  OF  A  PRINCE  31 

won't  you?  Army  and  Navy — yes!  You've  a  card, 
of  course.  I'd  like  to  talk  over  China-way  with  you. 
Chin-chin." 

This  with  the  smile  of  those  who  have  a  common 
interest  in  the  Orient.  He  bowed  to  Miss  Courtney, 
and  went  off. 

"The  prince  is  looking  for  you,  Ugichi,"  said 
Wrenne. 

The  Japanese  did  not  look  very  well  pleased,  but 
his  meaningless  smile  submerged  his  expression.  With 
him  gone,  Wrenne  took  the  girl's  arm  and  led  her 
into  the  chrysanthemum  section  of  the  conservatory, 
where  great  balls  of  yellow,  white,  and  pink  nodded 
at  them.  He  seated  her,  and  remained  standing,  look- 
ing down  at  her  wealth  of  hair,  little  curls  of  which 
clung  about  her  neck,  ears  and  forehead. 

She  had  lost  the  thinness  of  her  childhood.  From 
her  rosy  rounded  shoulders  to  her  delicately  arched 
ankles  she  was  of  an  exquisite  slimness.  But  the 
eyes  were  the  same — that  old  red-brown,  almost  com- 
parable to  the  darkest  of  rubies,  with  slumbering  fires 
in  their  depths.  They  matched  the  odd  olive  color- 
ing of  her  skin,  which  nevertheless  had  nothing  un- 
Anglo-Saxon  about  it;  nothing  of  the  Latin  or  even 
the  Gaul.  Her  coloring  might  have  been  that  of 
Long  Will  Langland's  "Nut-Browne  Mayde." 


32    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

"Still  'Brown  Bess.'  "  It  was  this  that  caused  him  to 
speak  his  thoughts  aloud. 

It  was  the  first  thing  he  had  said,  although  he  had 
been  looking  at  her  for  some  time.  She  had  returned 
his  gaze  frankly. 

"Do  you  know  I  was  going  to  quote  Tweedledum 
to  you:  'If  you  think  we're  wax  images,  you  ought 
to  pay ;  if  you  think  we're  human '  " 

"Well,  you  don't  look  like  most  humans,"  was  the 
clumsy  best  he  could  do. 

"Hamilton  Wrenne,  royal  favorite  of  women !"  she 
smiled. 

He  added  hastily,  blushing  as  he  told  her: 

"I've  remembered  you  for  five  years." 

"Perhaps  you  have  a  mind  for  detail,"  she  sug- 
gested sweetly.  "Most  military  people  have.  In  what 
train  of  well-ordered  thought  was  I  a  detail." 

"Not  a  detail  at  all — the  radiating  center." 

"Bravo!    On  the  left  we  have  the  radiating  lady." 

"Seriously,  Miss  Courtney — Brown  Bess — you 
don't  remember  me,  eh?" 

"I  have  a  vague  recollection  of  your  intense  black- 
ness of  hair  and  eyes.  I  can't  conceive  forgetting 
those.  I'm  a  painter,  you  see." 

"You  take  away  with  your  left  what  you  give  with 
your  right.  However,  my  vanity  isn't  hurt.  You  only 


A  PORTRAIT  OF  A  PRINCE  33 

saw  me  for  a  minute — maybe  less.  It  was  five  years 
ago.  The  Club  Road  at  Roland  Park.  Some  boys 
throwing  stones  at  a  Chinese !" 

"You " 

"No,  I  wasn't  one  of  the  boys  throwing  stones.  You 
flatter  my  youth,  Brown  Bess.  I  was  the  man  you 
peremptorily  ordered  out  of  the  sleigh." 

"You " 

"Yes.  I'd  just  been  sacked  from  West  Point,  and 
had  accepted  an  appointment  in  the  Chinese  Army! 
The  next  day  I  saw  the  Chinese  ambassador,  and 
before  night  I  was  on  my  way  to  San  Francisco  to 
take  the  P.  M.  boat  for  Shanghai." 

"Frank  Emory's  friend!" 

"Yes.  I  must  look  up  Frank,  by  the  bye.  I  sup- 
pose he " 

"He's  in  his  father's  office.  A  lawyer.  All  the 
Emorys  take  to  the  law  when  they  don't  go  into  the 
army.  They  are  a  family  with  traditions." 

"Yes,  to  be  sure.  Well,  you  can  see  now  how  I've 
remembered  you.  It  was  the  turning-point  in  my 
life." 

"I  told  you  I  was  only  a  detail."    She  laughed. 

"Let's  be  serious,"  pleaded  Wrenne. 

"Gayety  doesn't  come  often  enough  to  fling  it  away 
carelesslike.  We  can  be  serious  enough  without  try- 


34    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

ing.  However,  have  it  your  own  way.  That  was 
the  turning-point  in  my  life,  too.  And  also  due  to 
Chinese  influence.  There's  a  bond  of  futurity  be- 
tween us,  Colonel  Wrenne." 

"How  a  turning-point  in  your  life?" 

"You  remember  the  Chinese  I  took  home  ?  He  was 
the  influence.  It  so  happened  that  he  was  a  Chinese 
gentleman — and  an  artist  in  his  way.  I  nursed  him 
through  an  attack  of  brain  fever,  and  he  took  some 
sort  of  a  fancy  to  me.  Mother  was  furious,  but — well,, 
she  gave  in.  We  had  a  little  out-house  on  the  grounds,, 
and  he  went  there  to  live.  He  paid  us  for  it  by  taking 
care  of  our  garden.  Thanks  to  him,  we  have  the  most 
magnificent  garden  anywhere  about  Baltimore.  He 
could  do  the  queerest  things  with  flowers.  He  added 
to  it,  and  finally  built  a  hothouse.  The  family's 
awfully  glad  he's  with  us  now — there's  a  big  demand 
for  his  flowers.  He's  quite  the  fashionable  florist.. 
And  we  get  the  money!  Nice,  isn't  it?" 

"Very.    But  his  influence  on  you?" 

"He  taught  me  the  Chinese  color  scheme  and  dis- 
tance effect.  Also  the  grotesquerie.  My  own  instincts 
supply  the  realism  of  face  and  figure.  Occidental 
technique  added  to  Oriental  imagery!  It's  something 
quite  new." 


A  PORTRAIT  OF  A  PRINCE  35 

"You've  done  wonderful  work.  This  Chinese  of 
yours  must  be  a  treasure." 

"He  is.    It's  odd,  isn't  it? 

"Everything  connected  with  the  Chinese  is  odd — to 
us.  We  can't  get  their  view-point.  The  Chinese  soul 
is  old;  very  old.  It's  been  satiated  with  all  the  emo- 
tions. We  are  distressingly  new  and  interested.  I'd 
like  to  see  your  Chinese  treasure." 

"You  can't.  He  won't  have  anything  to  do  with 
other  Chinese,  nor  with  anyone  who's  been  in  China. 
I've  tried  that  before.  There's  some  sort  of  a  mystery 
there." 

"Everything  Chinese  is  mysterious — to  us.  But, 
Miss  Courtney,  I  want  you  to  meet  the  prince." 

"I  shook  hands  with  both  him  and  you.  You  don't 
seem  to  remember  that!" 

"I  must  have  been  saying  something  to  the  last  per- 
son I  shook  hands  with.  Will  you  come?" 

She  nodded.  They  left  the  conservatory.  The 
prince  was  not  in  the  Chinese  room,  the  music-room, 
nor  the  Louis  XIV.  reception-room.  They  ran  him  to 
earth  under  a  hexagonal  lantern  in  the  Flemish  cell. 

Miss  Courtney  was  briefly  presented  as  "the  artist 
the  Imperial  one  had  deigned  to  notice."  Wrenne 
used  the  florid  form  satirically. 

"He  mocks  our  customs  in  his  English,  this  Black 


36    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

Wrenne,"  smiled  the  prince.  "You  know  our  art,  it 
would  seem,  Miss  Courtney.  I  had  imagined  the  artist 
one  of  my  countrymen.  A  new  touch !  You  preserve 
our  conventions  and  atmosphere,  and  add  realism.  I 
am  very  charmed  with  your  work,  Miss  Courtney." 

She  thanked  him. 

"You  paint  the  face — pardon! — the  portrait?" 

"I  have  done  both  face  and  figure  from  Chinese 
models.  But  it  was  generally  symbolical." 

"I  have  a  reason  for  asking,  Miss  Courtney.  My 
portrait  has  never  been  painted.  My  aunt,  the  queen- 
mother,  has  had  her  portrait  done  by  an  American;  a 
Miss  Karl.  She  is  pleased  with  it.  She  has  also  set  a 
precedent.  I  may  now  follow  her  example." 

"You  mean " 

She  had  lost  her  self-control.  She  was  almost  gasp- 
ing. 

"I  mean  I  shall  be  in  Washington  for  some  little 
time,  and  I  should  like  you  to  paint  my  portrait,  Miss 
Courtney." 


CHAPTER  II 

THE    SLEEPING   SERPENT   WITH   THE    STRANGLING 
TAIL 

THE  half-light  of  a  drizzling  afternoon  did  little 
to  light  up  a  private  cabinet  in  the  Japanese 
legation  where  two  men  sat  with  the  passive 
calm  of  the  Oriental  belying  their  inward  tumult.  One 
was  Count  Ito  Ugichi,  special  envoy  of  the  mikado  to 
where  he  willed;  the  other,  whom  his  countrymen 
called  "Gray  Fox" — keen,  resourceful,  unscrupulous; 
most  dangerous  for  his  original  brain.  He  was  in  a 
heavy  silk  kimono,  this  Gray  Fox ;  his  feet  slippered — 
the  count  frock-coated,  gray-trousered,  nursing  a 
walking-stick  with  gloved  hands.  Matters  of  moment 
had  been  discussed,  plans  made,  details  discussed. 
They  lingered  over  personalities,  speaking  in  their  own 
language. 

"To  us,  already  in  debt  many  hundred  million  yen, 
this  is  no  light  matter,  Ito-san.  Our  country  groans 
under  new  taxation,  our  customs  are  mortgaged  to  the 
English,  our  internal  revenue  to  the  Americans.  We 
have  little  money,  Ito-san." 

37 


38    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

"It  is  to  be  that  we  have  much  when  this  end  is  con- 
summated. The  treasuries  of  China — think  you,  grave 
one!  The  stones  groan  in  the  Temple  of  the  Son  of 
Heaven;  groan  under  much  weight  of  gold.  The 
darkness  alone  greets  the  seven  thousand  eyes  of  Bud- 
dha. The  door  of  the  Double-Dragon  is  closed.  Think 
you — what  wealth,  son  of  the  Samurai " 

The  other's  beady  eyes  shone  greedily  out  of  their 
red  rims. 

"Think,  too,  of  Taotais  and  viceroys  to  be  sweated 
out  of  ill-gotten  gains;  of  lamas  with  treasure  hid  in 
their  monasteries.  Kwannon  and  Shaka  shall  take  for 
their  own  the  treasure  of  these  heretical  Shintos.  And 
Nippon  shall  play  nakodo."  * 

He  grinned.  But  so  long  had  he  made  this  grin 
meaningless,  that  when  he  would  have  had  it  significant, 
he  failed.  Too  long  had  he  worn  the  mask  for  mo- 
bility to  visit  his  countenance. 

"Think!" 

The  other  man  combed  his  thin  point  of  gray  beard 
with  talonlike  fingers.  His  smile  was  a  purely  specu- 
lative one. 

"Almost  am  I  convinced,  Ito-san.  You  make  honor- 
able promises !" 

Ito  Ugichi  made  a  wry  face.     "Too  long  have  I 

*  Middle  man. 


THE  SLEEPING  SERPENT  39 

listened  to  these  Western  barbarians,"  he  said.  "They 
have  another  word  for  what  we  would  do.  'Honor- 
able' to  them — that  is  different !" 

"The  Ugichi  hath  no  fear  of  the  future?"  Gray 
Fox  smiled. 

"There  are  eels  that  sting  as  serpents.  There  are 
serpents  that  much  resemble  eels.  I  know  these 
Westerners  better  than  the  esteemed  father's  son !  At 
times  I  have  fear  of  them.  Then  I  say:  What  chance 
have  they  ?  We,  the  subtle,  the  wise  of  many  genera- 
tions, may  outgeneral  them  at  every  point.  Yet  there 
is  a  subtlety  of  eternal  innocence ;  a  well-spring  fit  for 
drowning  in  the  clear  truth.  Fuji!  there  is  a  certain 
muddiness  in  my  metaphors  which  the  well-spring 
might  do  well  in  lacking.  You  grasp  me,  Gray  Fox?" 

Quite  inscrutable  the  other,  with  his  wisely  smiling 
face.  His  benevolent  hypocrisy  was  as  much  a  mask 
as  Ito's  meaningless  grin. 

"Fear!"  He  stroked  the  beard-point  thoughtfully. 
"We  do  not  fear  what  we  understand,  Ugichi.  Had 
these  Westerners  remained  always  innocent  they  might 
be  more  dangerous.  Perforce  now  they  add  the  sem- 
blance of  cunning  which  only  old  races  may  have.  In 
believing  their  acuteness,  they  are  delivered  into  the 
hand  of  Nippon.  A  holy  innocent  may  not  easily  be 
gulled.  A  man  wise  in  his  own  egotism  is  but  the  prey 


40    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

of  the  truly  wise.  Kwannon  preserve  thy  intellect 
among  these  muddled  metaphysics !  The  deed  for  the 
word,  good  Ugichi !" 

Ugichi  fondled  the  cane.  "I  fear  them  sometimes — 
not  often.  As  a  nation,  never,  but  individuals — a 
difference  there,  gnawing  Gray  Fox!  It  is  no  fault 
of  these  Americans  that,  as  a  country,  they  are  stupid. 
The  fault  is  otherwise."  He  paused.  "They  have  the 
wrong  men  at  the  head  of  things." 

Gray  Fox  looked  triumphant.  "My  theory,  good 
Ugichi,  but  rehashed !  Spake  I  not  so  in  Yeddo,  sev- 
eral years  ago  ?  We  had  gulled  this  American  nation. 
As  we  fought  with  Russia  they  cheered  and  en- 
couraged us;  sent  for  our  hospitals  money;  for  our 
famine  sufferers,  food." 

He  laughed  mirthlessly. 

"They  were  pleased  to  patronize  us,  O  good  Ugichi ! 
We  of  Nippon!  Our  good  friends  they!  'The  poor 

little  Jap/  said  they "  He  quoted  in  English, 

mimicking:  "  'The  poor  little  Jap  fighting  the  great 
bearded  Russian.'  They  are  one  great  gallery,  these 
Americans.  Of  us  they  made  a  hero !" 

Both  took  to  laughing  now,  their  glee  unrepressed. 

"We  told  them  how  we  loved  them !  Ah,  we  loved 
them  nobly,  good  Ugichi !  Nobly !  Ha !  'We  imitate 
you,'  said  we.  Teach  us  to  be  like  you.  We  would  sit 


THE  SLEEPING  SERPENT  41 

at  the  master's  feet  and  learn.  We  would  be  the 
Yankees  of  the  East'  Barbarian  fools!  That  they 
might  teach  us  aught !" 

Into  his  eyes  came  a  sadness. 

"And  yet — I  would  it  were  not  so,  Ugichi.  My 
thrice-honored  and  divinely  deceased  father — he  of  the 
Daimio — he  told  me  much  of  the  old  days.  A  happy 
people  we.  Happy  in  our  own  islands,  with  none  but 
our  own  people,  believing  most  devoutly  in  our  gods, 
tilling  the  land;  happy — aye,  Ugichi,  happy.  To  us 
had  been  preached  contentment ;  the  pursuit  of  naught 
save  the  spiritual  weal ;  the  content  of  the  cot  and  the 
palace.  Long  ago  that,  my  Ugichi." 

He  lost  the  mask  and  was  suddenly  quite  fierce. 

"What  cared  we  for  these  foreigners  with  their  new 
machinery,  their  lights  of  electricity,  their  hideous 
clothes,  their  false  modesty,  their  guns,  and  their  belch- 
ing ships!  We  were  happy — happy,  my  Ugichi." 

There  was  a  wail  in  his  voice. 

"Long  we  resisted  them — forbade  them  entrance  to 
our  shores;  forbade  that  they  bring  to  us  knowledge 
of  what  we  did  not  need,  which,  knowing,  we  might 
desire  and  strive  for.  But  their  all-conquering  greed 
for  money  drove  them  on.  They  forced  themselves 
upon  us  with  roaring  sea-monsters  of  steel  and  iron; 


42    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

with  iron  tubes  that  sent  death-hail  among  us — and 
then!" 

Ugichi  clasped  his  stick  firmly,  a  sudden  gleam  in  his 
eyes. 

"Then  the  sleeping  serpent  opened  his  eyes.  The 
guileful  serpent  of  Nippon!  They  had  trodden  upon 
his  tail,  and  his  eyes  blinked  upon  them.  He  saw  their 
strength,  their  superior  cunning  of  instruments.  A 
wise  serpent!  What  then?" 

"  'By  their  own  standards  they  set  everything,  these 
barbarians.'  So  the  serpent!  'Long  have  I  pondered 
over  the  things  of  the  beyond.  That  I  may  further 
dream,  let  me  preserve  my  peace  by  besting  them  in  the 
things  of  the  world.  My  lack  of  mechanics  is  lack  of 
inclination.  As  brain  to  brain — you  are  fledglings; 
Western  materialists.' 

"And  so  he  set  himself  to  learn.  And  now — now 
the  canker  has  spread — grown.  No  longer  does  he 
desire  contentment.  A  materialist  he — he  grasps,  this 
serpent.  He  would  wrap  the  world  in  his  tail  and 
strangle  it.  For  he  hath  a  very  strong,  supple  tail,  O 
Ugichi." 

Gray  Fox  fell  back,  exhausted.  He  coughed. 
Ugichi  patted  his  back. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  with  a  certain  ferocity,  "they 
brought  it  upon  themselves,  these  barbarians.  They 


THE  SLEEPING  SERPENT  43 

awakened  the  serpent.  He  cannot  sleep  again — not 
again.  He  must  own  all  or  be  scotched — this  great 
serpent  of  ours.  For  our  contentment  is  gone;  no 
longer  do  we  believe  in  our  gods;  no  longer  care  for 
aught  save  conquest " 

Both  lost  the  sadness  of  eyes — became  expression- 
less again.  Gray  Fox  spoke  brusquely. 

"And  when  we  have  put  Prince  Chu'un  on  the 
throne  of  China;  made  him  the  thirteenth  emperor; 
removed  Kwang-Hsu  of  the  'Great  Purity,'  and  his 
aunt,  'She  of  the  Western  Palace';  when  Japanese 
rifles  in  the  hands  of  Chinese  rebels  make  echoes 
through  the  red-walled  city — do  we  not  chance  aught? 
Eh,  there,  my  Ugichi?  How  then  of  Chu'un?  Fine 
promises  are  the  prerogative  of  princes  of  the  succes- 
sion. How  then?" 

"With  a  Nipponese  army  within  the  gates  ?  A  ques- 
tion unworthy  of  Gray  Fox.  Of  Prince  Chu'un  fear 
nothing.  Upon  me  he  leans  entirely  in  this  matter. 
He  would  be  emperor.  Tze-Hsi  would  have  Tuan, 
the  third  brother  of  Kwang-Su,  the  future  son  of 
heaven — and  Tze-Hsi  rules  China.  Well  are  her  pal- 
ace doors  marked  'Sho.'  *  She  would  live  forever, 
this  barren,  sharp-toothed  she-wolf.  And  suces- 
sion  for  Chu'un  comes  not  while  Tze-Hsi  lives. 
*  Longevity. 


44    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

China  sweats  under  oppression  and  the  inroads  of  the* 
foreigners.  They  curse  the  emperor  secretly  as  a  babe 
in  the  hands  of  the  unbeloved  dowager.  We  of  Nip- 
pon have  given  them  strength  and  belief  in  the  yellow 
man.  Before  they  had  thought  the  white  race  in- 
vincible. Now  with  the  White  Bear  fleeing  to  his 
Siberian  steppes — the  Great  Fear  is  gone.  Chu'un, 
with  Nippon  at  his  back,  would  be  hailed  with  'Ban- 
zais' — but  of  this  discussion  what  use?  Fate  has 
willed.  It  is  the  Emperor's  desire " 

They  bowed  their  heads.  Feudality  is  no  dead  thing 
with  the  Japanese.  They  had  spoken  of  their  ruler. 

Ugichi  picked  up  his  silk  hat,  smoothed  the  nap,  and 
prepared  himself  to  go.  "There  is  but  one  obstacle; 
one  whom  I  fear.  Not  that  he  will  not  aid  in  the  plot, 
for  it  is  to  his  interest  that  Chu'un  be  emperor ;  for  of 
him  Chu'un  hath  made  a  companion,  a  sharer  of 
secrets,  an  adviser  in  military  law,  and  other  affairs. 
Black-visaged  this  fellow,  and  secret  in  his  ways.  Some 
frowning  storm-god  of  Fuji  might  have  fashioned  his 
face." 

"The  American  aide-de-camp?" 

"He  is  the  man." 

"And  you  fear  him?" 

"Because  of  his  great  secretiveness.  He  holds  his 
tongue  well,  the  Black  Wrenne.  Of  monumental  aid 


THE  SLEEPING  SERPENT  45 

to  me  in  my  share  in  the  details,  for  he  hath  a  cunning 
mind  and  a  great  understanding  of  men.  Of  conscience 
— little.  No  hypocrite,  in  verity,  but  his  strength  and 
reserve  make  me  fear  him.  It  would  appear  that  he 
deems  a  certain  amount  of  subtlety  enough  for  the 
gaze  of  others  than  himself,  chuckling  meanwhile  that 
they  believe  it  his  all.  But  of  him  I  have  no  present 

fear;  only  later  when  Chu'un  be  emperor Now 

he  is  quite  occupied " 

"Another  scheme?" 

"The  painter  of  portraits.  The  Spirit  of  the  Cherry- 
Blossoms — she  of  pink  cheeks  and  ruddy  hair.  She 
paints  the  portrait  of  the  prince,  but  her  eyes  are  for 
Black  Wrenne.  And  when  a  woman  engrosseth  a 
man,  plots  and  counterplots  find  him  not  too  eager  for 
them." 

He  nourished  his  hat.  Gray  Fox  arose  and  put  his 
talonlike  hands  on  the  other's  shoulders.  His  rodent- 
like  eyes  searched  those  of  his  subordinate. 

"I  have  heard  tales  of  the  woman  with  the  ruddy 
hair.  Kwannon  hath  many  eyes.  It  is  said  that  the 
Count  Ito  Ugichi  is  seen  often  to  enter  the  house  where 
she  paints." 

Ugichi  dropped  his  gaze.  The  talons  tightened  on 
his  shoulders. 

"Remember,  it  is  as  you  have  said:  'When  a  woman 


48    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

engrosseth  a  man,  plots  and  counterplots  find  him  not 
too  eager  for  them.'  Be  careful !  An  infatuation  with 
a  Western  woman  is  death,  Ugichi.  We  cannot  under- 
stand them,  we  of  the  Orient.  There  have  been  among 
us  men  who  have  striven  for  them.  When  we  desire 
our  own  women,  we  buy  them  of  their  parents  in 
proper,  discreet  fashion.  With  them  is  no  perturba- 
tion of  mind;  only  pandering  to  our  bodily  cravings. 
These  Western  women  have  a  fashion  of  setting  brain 
alight,  of  destroying  subtlety,  of  making  of  man  abject 
mental  slaves,  while  the  craze  lasts — so  beware, 
Ugichi!" 

The  count  met  his  gaze,  but  quickly  withdrew  his 

eyes.  "To  me — why  this "  He  was  not  speaking 

confidently.  From  this  keen  Gray  Fox  even  the  mind 
seemed  an  unsafe  place  to  hide  passions  unauthorized. 

"Remember — you  belong  to  the  Son  of  Heaven. 
Forgetting,  you  may  achieve  no  merit  for  Ito  Ugichi." 


CHAPTER  III 
BLACK  WRENNE  Bows  TO  BROWN  BESS 

PRINCE  CHU'UN'S  portrait  was  finished.    Bess 
stood  off  and  observed  It  with  critical  eye.    It 
was  not  as  good  as  she  expected  to  do  five 
years  hence ;  but  the  best  that  her  present  power  could 
compass. 

It  stood,  propped  against  the  chair  on  the  model's 
platform  in  her  Washington  studio,  which  overlooked 
Lafayette  Park.  Through  the  bay  windows  of  the 
old  mansion  one  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  White  House 
across  the  way,  and  the  fagade  of  the  State,  War,  and 
Navy  Building.  The  house  had  once  been  occupied  by 
a  prominent  Washington  family;  afterward  it  had 
been  the  abode  of  successive  cabinet  ministers.  When 
the  tide  of  fashion  swept  up  Connecticut  Avenue  way, 
the  lower  floor  had  been  let  as  offices  for  a  branch 
of  the  Federal  judiciary,  while  the  upper  floors  had 
been  converted  into  studios.  Bess  had  the  spacious 
attic,  which  had  once  been  the  family  store-room.  It 
possessed  the  facilities  of  a  good  north  light,  and  a 

47 


48    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

splendid  view.  There  were  stairs  to  climb,  but  that 
was  nothing  to  a  young,  healthy  woman  like  Bess. 

She  addressed  the  Chinese  who  stood  gazing  at  her 
work — the  same  Chinese  who,  five  years  before,  had 
been  taken  to  her  home  in  Frank  Emery's  sleigh.  At 
first  sight  he  might  have  been  mistaken  for  a  Japanese 
— cue  gone,  hair  clipped  close  to  his  head,  wearing  a 
lounge-suit  of  brown  tweeds.  He  had  deliberately 
sacrificed  the  cue — by  his  action  tacitly  acknowledging 
that  he  did  not  intend  to  return  to  his  native  land. 

"Well,  Lee,  what  do  you  think  of  it?" 

It  was  his  first  sight  of  the  picture.  He  had  come 
over  from  Baltimore  only  that  day  to  see  his  pupil's 
work  before  its  delivery  to  the  Chinese  prince.  Bess 
had  told  him  much  concerning  the  portrait,  going  to 
and  fro  between  Baltimore  and  Washington  almost 
every  day. 

He  answered  slowly  and  in  excellent  English : 

"The  hand — here !"  He  pointed.  "There  is 

too  much  of  it — it  attracts  the  eye  from  the  face  by 
being  so  conspicuous.  You  have  put  into  the  hand 
much  character — the  character  of  the  man — and  to  it 
first  people  will  look.  This  fold  of  the  inner  robe  is 
in  too  sharp  a  contrast  to  the  curve  of  the  angle " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and,  reaching  over,  re- 
draped  the  picture. 


BLACK  WRENNE  BOWS  49 

"Well  ?"    Bess  had  disappointment  in  her  tone. 

He  came  to  her,  smiling  softy,  and  took  both  her 
hands  in  his. 

"It  is  because  I  fear  to  make  you  satisfied  that  I  am 
lacking  in  praise,  plum-blossom!" 

"Then  it  is  good— oh,  Lee!" 

"It  is  good,  little  flower  of  my  heart.  But  better 
things  you  shall  yet  do.  Save  the  two  defects  I  have 
mentioned,  there  are  no  faults  to  find.  And  now  I  go 
back!" 

He  picked  up  his  brown  bowler  hat  and  gloves. 

"I  have  no  wish  to  meet  the  brother  of  the  Son  of 
Heaven.  Nor  his  American  soldier.  All  things  Chinese 
I  have  left  behind  me,  plum-blossom.  I  would  not  be 
reminded." 

They  shook  hands. 

"Lee!" — with  sudden  alarm — "you  are  not  looking 
well.  You  have  been  working  too  hard,  Lee.  You  are 
not  well." 

He  smiled.    "No?    You  have  noticed  it?" 

He  had  the  head  of  a  Confucius,  the  puny  body  of 
a  lama.  There  was  much  to  distinguish  him  in  feature 
— the  lofty  forehead,  bulging  outward :  the  high  cheek- 
bones; the  face  curving  to  a  point.  His  eyes  were 
those  of  the  thinker,  dreamer,  and  deep  hater.  The 
face  was  thin  and  very  much  wrinkled,  its  yellow  skin 


50    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

drawn  tightly  over  little  flesh.  There  were  black  rings 
about  his  eyes;  a  certain  flaccidity  of  the  lips. 

"Let  me  tell  you,  plum-blossom,  I  am  as  well  as  I 
may  hope.  It  is  the  heart."  He  put  his  hand  to  his 
side.  "I  had  not  expected  to  live  as  long  as  I  have, 
little  flower  of  my  heart.  For  years  I  have  been 
expecting  the  messenger  of  the  goal.  But " 

"Lee !"  She  shook  him  sharply.  There  was  mois- 
ture in  her  eyes.  "Lee,  don't  talk  like  that!" 

His  face  warmed.  "You  care,  little  one  ?  You  have 
always  cared — for  poor  Lee.  But  it  is  best  to  be  pre- 
pared. At  any  moment  it  may  come — click!  And 
then  to  the  graves  of  my  ancestors — the  last  of  my 
line !  It  is  true,  plum-blossom." 

He  bowed,  sweeping  his  hat  close  to  the  floor.  "The 
gods  guide  you!"  Then  he  was  gone. 

The  girl  went  to  the  window  and  watched  him  as  he 
emerged  from  the  house  and  struck  through  Lafayette 
Park  on  his  way  to  the  Pennsylvania  cars.  He  walked 
feebly,  a  bent-over,  shrunken  little  figure,  and  she 
wiped  away  tears  from  her  eyes  as  she  watched  him. 
She  owed  much  to  this  Chinese — her  philosophy,  her 
training  in  Oriental  art,  her  broad  outlook  on  life. 
Then,  too,  he  had  recruited  the  family  finances  in  his 
inconspicuous  way,  making  of  their  gardens  a  revenue. 
She  sank  down  into  the  window-seat. 


BLACK  WRENNE  BOWS  51 

"Poor  old  Lee!" 

That  was  what  he  had  chosen  to  be  called — "Lee." 
She  knew  that  was  but  the  English  equivalent  of  "Li," 
and  but  one  of  three  names.  When  necessity  had  com- 
pelled another  name,  he  chose  that  of  "Gordon." 

"He  was  a  great  general,  that  Gordon,"  Lee  had 
said.  "I  have  seen  what  he  did  with  our  soldiers." 

Gordon  Lee!  And  that  was  all  she  knew  of  her 
Chinese  mentor.  She  arose,  went  to  her  portfolio,  and 
took  out  a  recent  sketch  of  "Gordon  Lee."  She  had 
taken  the  face  and  pose  from  an  unconscious  sitting, 
when  he  imagined  her  engaged  on  another  picture,  but 
had  provided  the  cue,  the  mandarin's  coat  and  hat,  and 
the  fan  from  her  own  imagination.  Thus  she  imag- 
ined Lee  must  have  looked  in  his  native  country.  She 
pondered  over  it,  thinking  of  improvements,  her  red 
lips  pursed  up,  her  pretty  brows  in  a  frown,  her  head 
bent  over,  so  that  the  sunbeams  made  an  aureole  of 
her  hair.  One  pink  finger  was  pointing  accusingly  at 
certain  technical  defects. 

Quite  suddenly  two  strong  hands  on  her  shoulders 
turned  her  completely  around,  to  look  into  the  eyes  of 
Hamilton  Wrenne.  She  surveyed  him  with  outward 
coolness.  His  top  hat  and  stick  had  clattered  to  the 
floor  as  he  seized  her,  and  she  noted  that  his  morning 


52    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

coat  was  smartly  cut,  his  white  silk  Ascot  well  tied,  a 
flawless  ruby  in  Chinese  gold  holding  it  together. 

"Well,  Black  Wrenne?" 

"Well,  Brown  Bess?" 

"It  is  my  right  to  ask  the  question,"  she  informed 
him.  "You  enter  my  studio  without  knocking;  you 
take  me  rudely  by  the  shoulders " 

"Not  rudely — tenderly !" 

"If  that  is  tenderness,  I  shouldn't  like  to  feel  your 
savage  mood.  However,  to  proceed.  You  hold  me  in 
a  grip  which  will  leave  two  red  marks  on  my  shoulders 
that  will  show  when  I  attend  the  Mason-Carrs'  dinner 
to-night." 

He  released  hef.  She  rubbed  her  shoulders  with 
solicitude. 

"Thank  you.  And  then  you  have  the  presumption 
to  say  'Well'?" 

"The  door  was  wide  open.  You  made  a  prettier 
picture  than  you  have  ever  painted." 

"Thanks  for  the  subtle  appreciation  of  my  work!" 

"Hang  it !  you  know  what  I  mean." 

"I  thought  I  did.  When  you  took  me  by  the 
shoulders  I  imagined  you  were  going  to  kiss  me." 

He  took  a  step  backward. 

"Well,  so  I  did  intend !"  he  said,  goaded. 

"I  hate  a  man  who  merely  threatens " 


BLACK  WRENNE  BOWS  63 

He  came  toward  her,  but  she  eluded  him. 

"Hang  it,  Bess !  you're  the  most  tantalizing  creature 
alive." 

"Why?  Because  I  refuse  to  be  the  plaything  of 
Hamilton  Wrenne,  Colonel,  I.  C.  A.  and  aide-de-camp 
to  his  Imperial  Highness,  Prince  Chu'un;  Mandarin  of 
the  second  degree,  and  Fellow  of  the  Royal  Geo- 
graphical Society;  not  to  mention  Don  Juan  in  general 
to  any  foolish  girl  who  fancies  his  sinister  type  of 
beauty?  Hardly  so,  Black  Wrenne!" 

With  a  sudden  rush  forward,  he  had  her  penned  in 
a  corner. 

"Now,"  he  said  triumphantly,  "we  shall  see,  Brown 
Bess!" 

She  held  up  a  rosy  finger.  "I  fancy  not,  Black 
Wrenne.  Listen!  We  are  quite  alone  in  this  studio. 
If  I  called  out,  no  one  would  hear  me.  You  are  quite 
safe.  You  can  kiss  me  as  much  as  you  please.  But 
you're  taking  no  chances,  Black  Wrenne.  The  game 
is  one-sided.  And  you're  not  the  sort  of  man  to  play 
that  game,  are  you,  Black  Wrenne !" 

He  threw  up  his  hands  despairingly. 

"Upon  my  word,  Bess,  I'm  no  match  for  you.  I 
surrender,  capitulate,  and  kiss  the  chains  that  embrace 
me.  Please  will  you  give  the  captive  of  your  wheels 
some  tea?" 


54    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

She  crossed  the  room,  turned  on  the  alcohol-lamp, 
and  mixed  the  tea  and  hot  water. 

"Why  aren't  you  like  other  girls,  Brown  Bess?" 
asked  Wrenne,  as  he  accepted  the  cup  from  her  hands 
and  watched  the  slice  of  lemon  circle  the  rim. 

"You  mean  why  don't  I  show  the  proper  thankful- 
ness for  your  condescension,  and  be  your  doll  'for  a 
week  or  a  month  or  a  day,  sir'  ?  Is  that  it  ?" 

"You  make  me  out  a  fearfully  egotistical  ass !" 

"No.  Simply  call  your  attention  to  the  fact,  Hamil- 
ton, dear."  She  smiled  at  him  captivatingly. 

"Now,  upon  my  word!"  he  said,  in  indignation. 
"You  call  me  'dear,'  give  me  a  smile  that,  luckily, 
came  several  centuries  too  late  for  St.  Anthony,  and 
then  pulverize  me  when  I  lose  control  of  myself." 

"I'm  penancing  you  for  the  sake  of  the  other 
women.  But  I  expect  you're  not  wholly  to  blame, 
Black  Wrenne.  You've  found  your  sinister  beauty  a 
good  bait  for  girls  who  want  the  excuse  of  physical 
attraction.  You  believe  that  most  of  us  only  want 
that  excuse.  I  believe  you're  right.  You  most  cer- 
tainly are  in  my  case." 

"What!"     He  nearly  dropped  his  cup. 

"Most  certainly !"  she  repeated.  "You  have  a  very 
vivid  attraction  for  me.  I've  often  rather  wanted  you 
to  kiss  me.  I  feel  sure  I  should  like  it " 


BLACK  WRENNE  BOWS  55 

He  put  his  cup  on  the  tray  and  stared  at  her. 

" that's  my  animal,  physical  self,"  she  contin- 
ued placidly.  "That  is  just  Bess  Courtney;  Brown 
Bess,  who  enjoys  physical  sensations.  But,  you  see, 
I'm  a  painter,  Black  Wrenne.  That's  not  Bess  Court- 
ney. That's  a  part  of  the  universal  soul  of  things  given 
into  my  keeping;  a  precious  gem  that  I  must  keep 
flawless.  The  setting  must  be  worthy  of  the  gem — 
Therefore,  Black  Wrenne,  my  self-respect.  Rather  in- 
volved, isn't  it?" 

He  got  up,  came  over,  and  took  her  hand. 

"Bess,"  he  said,  "you're  a  damn'  good  sort!" 

Crossing  the  room,  he  removed  the  drapery  from  the 
picture  of  the  prince.  For  some  time  he  gazed  on  it, 
giving  her  the  flattery  of  statuelike  attention.  It  was 
with  a  deep  intake  of  breath  that  he  turned  to  her. 

"You've  opened  my  eyes,  rather,  my  dear  girl.  It 
is  indeed  presumption  that  Hamilton  Wrenne,  a  mere 
foreign  mercenary,  good  for  mighty  little  but  a  plot  or 
a  fight,  should  seek  to  make  a  conquest  of  the  girl 
that  painted — that!" 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  simply.  His  praise  was  too 
genuine  to  call  forth  a  display  of  false  modesty. 

"By  the  bye,"  he  said  presently,  when  the  conscious- 
ness of  having  betrayed  emotion  had  passed  off,  "they 
tell  me  Ito  Ugichi  is  a  frequent  visitor  here.  Not  that 


56    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

they  need  to  tell  me — I've  seen  him  here  often  enough 
myself." 

"He  comes  quite  often,"  she  acknowledged.  "He 
interests  me.  He  is  the  best  liar  I  have  ever  known." 

"Oh !"  He  laughed  with  a  certain  constraint.  "You 
take  the  words  on  my  tongue.  I'm  flattered  to  think 
there's  a  certain  telepathy  between  us.  Ugichi  insults 
you  with  his  admiration.  You  know  the  Japanese  idea 
of  women." 

"Is  there  really  much  difference  between  his  ad- 
miration of  me  and  yours,  Black  Wrenne?"  she  asked 
softly. 

The  sudden  stricture  left  him  flushing  with  its  truth. 

"No,"  she  said,  "there  isn't.  Only  a  difference  be- 
tween the  men.  Ugichi  is  yellow,  not  prepossessing. 
Hamilton  Wrenne  is  white,  and  striking — rather!  But 
both  admire  me  in  the  same  way.  Is  it  the  better  part 
of  me,  the  part  that  finds  expression  in  my  work,  that 
you  admire?  My  ideals?  My  striving  for  better 
things  ?  No,  Black  Wrenne.  Only  these  brown  curls ; 
the  curves  of  my  figure,  the  redness  of  my  lips !  There 
lies  the  admiration.  And  both  of  you  are  unmoral — 
not  immoral,  for  I  know  he  never  had  any  morals,  and 
I  doubt  whether  you  ever  had.  But,  still,  there  is  a 
difference  between  you " 


BLACK  WRENNE  BOWS  57 

She  paused.  Wrenne,  shamefaced,  did  not  meet  her 
gaze. 

"I  am  afraid  of  Ugichi.    I  am  not  afraid  of  you!" 

"Why?"  he  asked,  in  a  low  tone. 

"You,  being  an  Anglo-Saxon,  have  honor — he,  be- 
ing a  Japanese,  has  not  even  that!" 


CHAPTER  IV 
HE  OF  THE  WHITE  BANNER 

HIS  man!" 

There  was  an  unusual  note  in  the  voice  of 
Prince  Chu'un.  He  held  in  his  hand  the  sketch 
of  the  Chinese  who  chose  to  call  himself  "Gordon 
Lee." 

It  was  an  hour  later.  Prince  Chu'un  had  seen  the 
finished  portrait  and  had  approved  of  it  without  reser- 
vation. The  secretary  of  the  Chinese  legation  had  pre- 
sented in  payment  a  check  for  more  than  twice  the  sum 
for  which  she  would  have  dared  ask.  There  was  also 
his  highness'  gift — a  belt  of  topazes,  with  a  jade 
buckle,  beyond  price.  Bess  Courtney  was  somewhat 
dazed. 

She  would  have  returned  the  splendid  present,  but 
Hamilton  Wrenne,  surmising  her  intention,  warned  her 
that  that  way  lay  imperial  displeasure.  It  was,  he 
assured  her,  the  privilege  of  royalty  to  make  such  gifts 
as  were  compatible  with  their  pleasure.  Bess,  only 
wanting  an  excuse  to  retain  the  belt,  reconsidered. 

n 


HE  OF  THE  WHITE  BANNER  59 

The  legation  servants  had  been  brought  to  the  studio 
for  the  weighty  ceremony  that  took  place,  and  the 
official  members  of  the  legation  stood  solemnly  by  in 
official  robes.  The  portrait  had  been  placed  in  a  cam- 
phor-wood box,  lined  with  the  imperial  yellow.  This 
box  was  inclosed  in  others  similarly  lined.  The  boxes 
were  covered  with  yellow  cloth,  painted  with  the 
Double-Dragon;  and,  at  last,  the  picture  was  ready 
for  transmission  to  Peking,  to  be  viewed  by  the  august 
eyes  of  Kwang-Hsu,  thirteenth  of  the  great  purity  em- 
perors, and  brother  of  Prince  Chu'un. 

A  private  car  had  been  reserved  to  convey  the  por- 
trait to  San  Francisco,  in  charge  of  a  gentleman  of  the 
legation  and  two  attendants.  From  thence  an  O.  and 
O.  S.  S.  stateroom  would  have  the  honor  of  its  pres- 
ence to  Shanghai,  a  C.  N.  C.  stateroom  to  Tien-tsin, 
and  a  very  special  train  from  that  point  to  Peking, 
where  a  cavalcade  would  receive  it  and  convey  it 
within  the  environs  of  the  Forbidden  City. 

But  the  part  Bess  bore  in  the  ceremony  was  over. 
Those  of  the  Chinese  legation  had  departed.  Re- 
mained only  the  prince  himself,  Hamilton  Wrenne,  Ito 
Ugichi,  and  Bess  Courtney's  brother  Austin,  a  hand- 
some, dissipated  young  man,  immaculately  garbed, 
with  hair  too  well-groomed,  and  an  inherent  weakness 
and  sensuality  of  mouth  and  chin. 


60    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

They  had  been  startled  by  the  sudden  exclamation 
of  the  prince. 

"What  man?"  asked  Bess.  She  came  forward  and 
noted  the  sketch  of  her  Chinese  mentor  upon  which 
the  prince  gazed.  His  face  was  bland  and  placid 
again,  but  Bess  knew  instinctively  that  it  had  not  been 
so  when  the  pictured  likeness  first  came  under  his  eye. 

She  hesitated  before  replying,  remembering  Gordon 
Lee's  avoidance  of  his  own  people,  his  refusal  to  meet 
even  those  white  men  who  had  been  in  China  long 
enough  to  realize  how  little  of  it  they  understood.  A 
chill  struck  her.  She  was  at  fault.  She  should  not 
have  exposed  the  sketch.  She  recalled  that  she  had 
been  looking  at  it  when  Hamilton  Wrenne  had  pin- 
ioned her  shoulders  on  his  first  entrance  some  hours 
before. 

"That  man!"  she  said,  her  self-control  regained,  her 
voice  without  emotion.  "Why,  he  was  a  model  that  I 
used  to  have.  He's  dead  now — these  two  years " 

Austin  Courtney  opened  his  mouth. 

"Why,  Bess!"  he  began.     "You " 

Her  look  silenced  him.  Ito  Ugichi,  observing  the 
byplay,  grinned  in  his  meaningless  way,  and  rubbed 
his  yellow  hands  together.  It  was  with  a  certain  chill 
Bess  noted  that  the  interchange  of  looks  had  been 


HE  OF  THE  WHITE  BANNER  61 

observed  by  the  Japanese.  Prince  Chu'un,  however, 
did  not  seem  to  note  the  interruption. 

"You  remember,"  finished  Austin,  "that  we  had  to 
pay  for  his  funeral.  Out  in  Loudon  Park  Cemetery. 
You  liked  him." 

She  smiled  at  the  idea  of  Austin  paying  for  any- 
thing— also  grimly  noted  his  facile  mendacity,  which 
had  in  it  the  colorature  of  little  things,  giving  veri- 
similitude. The  prince  was  apparently  convinced. 

"Do  you  know  him,  Your  Highness?"  asked  the 
girl. 

Chu'un  nodded.  "He  was  master  of  ceremonies  at 
the  court  during  my  uncle's  time,"  he  said.  "One  of 
the  White  Banner  families,  having  rank  almost  as  high 
as  my  own — which  is  the  Yellow  Banner.  He  was 
fond  of  me,  I  remember;  gave  me  much  of  my  early 
Confucianisms.  A  wise  man,  and  in  advance  of  his 
time,  perhaps.  Li-Wung-Kih  his  name.  With  my 
august  uncle's  death,  and  the  reigning  of  his  son,  the 
Emperor  Tung,  he  exercised  much  authority,  and  was 
unfortunate  enough  to  incur  the  enmity  of  my  thrice- 
beloved  aunt,  Tze-Hsi,  the  queen-mother.  He  was 
accused  of  witchcraft;  of  having  caused  the  death  of 
the  youthful  Emperor  Tung,  and  had  a  narrow  lease 
of  life  for  a  space.  Then  he  escaped,  none  knew 
whither.  But  this  none  forgot — he  had  been,  beside 


62    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

master  of  ceremonies,  master  also  of  the  imperial 
treasures.  After  his  arrest,  imprisonment,  and  flight, 
his  palace  was  searched  for  the  treasure  keys.  All  were 
found,  and  in  good  order — save  one  set! — the  keys 
to  the  temple  of  the  Double-Dragon,  where  the  seven 
thousand  eyes  of  Buddha  look  only  upon  the  darkness 
to  this  day." 

"But  other  keys  can "  interrupted  Austin  Court- 
ney. 

"No,  young  brother  of  the  painter.  There  is  one  set 
of  keys  to  the  doors  of  the  Double-Dragon — one  set  of 
keys  which  may  let  the  light  shine  upon  the  seven 
thousand  eyes  of  Buddha.  In  my  country  there  is 
tradition,  young  brother  of  the  painter.  There  is  a 
tradition  that  these  keys  were  fashioned  at  the  behest 
of  the  invisible  deity,  and  given  to  the  Son  of  Heaven 
that  he  might  prove  his  superiority  over  mere  desire 
for  mastership  of  the  world.  For  within  the  temple 
of  the  Double-Dragon  there  is  wealth  untold — seven 
thousand  diamonds  of  the  purest  stones ;  two  thousand 
that  are  blue,  two  thousand  that  are  yellow,  three 
thousand  that  are  white,  and  each  the  size  of  a  pigeon's 
egg-" 

His  audience  gasped.    The  prince  smiled. 

"Ha !  Your  wealthy  men  appear  but  ciphers  before 
such  astounding  value  of  gems!  Perhaps  it  is  better 


HE  OF  THE  WHITE  BANNER  63 

that  the  keys  be  lost.    Li-Wung-Kih  has  gone  to  his 
ancestors,  say  you,  fair  young  painter?    With  his  body 
let  the  memory  of  this  wealth  be  buried.    Until  bar- 
He  smiled,  apologizing. 

"I  had  forgotten.  Until  foreigners  take  the  For- 
bidden City  wholly  for  their  own,  the  seven  thousand 
eyes  of  Buddha  are  safe  behind  the  door  of  the 
Double-Dragon !" 

He  put  the  portrait  back  on  the  table. 

"Come,  let  us  go,"  he  said  to  Hamilton  Wrenne. 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  SEVEN  THOUSAND  EYES  OF  BUDDHA 

BESS  did  not  return  to  Baltimore  that  night  along 
with  Austin.  She  had  a  dinner  engagement 
with  the  Mason-Carrs,  and  was  to  be  one  of  a 
box-party  afterward.  For  these  contingencies  she  was 
provided,  as  there  was  a  tiny  room  back  of  her  studio 
that  she  occupied  on  such  nights.  The  box-party, 
having  been  a  wedge  between  the  dinner  and  the  Bach- 
elors' Cotillion  at  the  Willard,  it  was  something  close 
to  four  o'clock  before  she  retired,  and  very  near  to 
noon  before  she  arose.  Several  calls  and  talks  regard- 
ing mural  decorations  which  people  wanted  of  her 
occupied  the  afternoon,  and  did  not  leave  her  free  to 
go  to  Baltimore  until  dusk.  She  took  a  Roland  Park 
car  from  Union  Station,  and  arrived  at  home  as  Aus- 
tin was  fidgeting  over  his  dinner,  quite  alone. 

The  mother,  being  an  invalid,  occupied  her  rooms 
constantly,  and  had  not  been  below-stairs  for  nearly  a 
year,  except  to  be  carried  out  to  the  family  victoria  and 
driven  about  the  park.  Some  asserted  her  more  hypo- 

64 


THE  EYES  OF  BUDDHA  65 

chondriacal  than  ill,  indicating  her  stoutness  and  pasty 
complexion  as  evidences  of  one  whose  chief  trouble  is 
a  sedentary  life  indoors.  But  Bess  had  accepted  her 
mother's  valuation  of  her  ailment,  and  did  not  argue 
the  question. 

Going  up-stairs,  she  submitted  to  a  family  lecture  on 
the  subject  of  girls  who  stayed  alone  in  single  rooms 
and  disregarded  chaperons,  which  was  supplemented 
by  a  request  for  the  check  which  Bess  had  received  for 
the  portrait.  The  request  was  denied  very  gently. 

"I  owe  most  of  it,  mother.  I've  got  to  pay  my  own 
bills,  you  know.  Besides,  if  I  give  it  to  you,  you'll 
simply  have  some  new- faddish  doctor  in  to  call  your 
trouble  by  some  new  name." 

The  mother  wept,  and  spoke  of  the  difference  be- 
tween the  respect  shown  her  and  the  respect  she  had 
shown  her  mother. 

"And,"  continued  Bess,  "what  the  doctor  didn't  get 
would  be  borrowed  by  Austin.  No,  mother,  I've  got 
most  of  the  burden  of  the  house  on  my  shoulders  as  it 
is.  I'm  not  going  to  be  the  victim  of  Austin's  latest 
fancy  in  chorus-girls." 

Bess  discussed  Austin  quite  frankly.  She  had  no 
respect  for  him,  looking  on  him  rather  as  a  wayward 
child  to  be  disciplined.  Her  mother's  infatuation  for 
the  brother,  however,  ran  to  an  antithetical  extreme. 


66    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

She  was  willing  to  deny  herself  little  luxuries  to  give 
the  money  to  Austin. 

Bess  escaped  from  the  parental  displeasure,  and 
went  to  the  children's  play-room,  where  her  two  little 
sisters  were  studying  their  next  day's  lessons.  The 
children  went  to  convent  school,  and  Bess  paid  the 
bills;  also  she  kept  them  supplied  with  clothes  and  a 
nursery  governess.  Otherwise  they  might  have  grown 
up  little  savages.  Their  mother  hardly  saw  them  one 
day  out  of  the  seven. 

She  had  a  box  of  candy  for  them,  which,  delivered, 
was  paid  for  with  many  hugs  and  kisses.  Later  she 
rejoined  Austin  in  the  dining-room.  He  had  finished 
his  dinner,  and  was  scowling  over  a  cigarette.  Bess 
was  rather  surprised  to  see  him  dining  home,  as  he 
seldom  favored  the  house  with  his  presence,  sleeping 
at  his  bachelor  apartments  in  the  Savoy,  and  dining 
either  with  men  at  the  clubs,  women  in  private  dining- 
rooms,  or  as  a  member  of  some  formal  party  of  people 
whose  names  were  in  the  social  register. 

"You  took  long  enough  coming,"  he  snarled. 
"Didn't  you  get  my  wire?" 

"No." 

The  servant  brought  her  some  soup  and  went  out. 

"Oh,  you  didn't  ?  Well,  why  don't  you  stay  in  your 
studio  without  gadding  all  over  town?" 


THE  EYES  OF  BUDDHA  67 

"Drop  it,  Austin,"  she  commanded.  "What's  the 
matter?  More  debts?  Because  I  sha'n't  pay  them, 
you  know.  The  last  money  I  loaned  you  went  to  buy 
a  diamond  sunburst  for  a  certain  Miss  Lola  Montmor- 
ency — and — well,  if  my  money's  going  for  diamond 
sunbursts,  the  sunbursts  are  going  on  me — much  as  I 
detest  diamonds!" 

"Oh,  indeed !  You  told  mother  that,  too.  A  rotten, 
shabby  trick,  Bess !  You  don't  hear  me  knocking  about 
your  affairs." 

"I  beg  your  pardon !" 

"Your  affairs,  I  said — affaires,  if  you  like  that 
better.  For  instance,  the  black-eyed  man  Wrenne. 
You'd  better  drop  him,  my  girl;  let  me  tell  you  that. 
He's  a  bad  egg,  and " 

The  servant  returned,  and  replaced  the  soup  with 
something  more  substantial.  When  she  had  taken 
herself  off,  Austin  continued: 

"I've  heard " 

"Austin,  you're  an  awfully  poor  imitation  of  a  man ; 
— honestly  you  are !  But  for  these  small  favors  I  must 
be  thankful.  If  I  hadn't  a  brother  like  you,  I  shouldn't 
have  known  half  so  much  about  how  bad  men  can  be. 
So  I  haven't  had  many  illusions  shattered." 

"Oh,  indeed!" 

"Yes,  indeed!"  she  mimicked.     "Now,  you  keep 


68    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

your  nasty  tongue  away  from  my  affairs,  Austin 
Courtney." 

Austin  was  afraid  of  his  sister  in  this  mood.  He 
covered  his  fear  with  sulkiness.  Finishing  his  cigar- 
ette, he  went  to  the  window  and  dropped  it  out,  then 
came  back  and  stood  at  the  girl's  elbow. 

"What  I  wanted  to  tell  you,"  he  said,  in  a  different 
tone,  "was  that  Lee's  skipped  out  for  parts  unknown, 
and  taken  his  luggage  with  him." 

Instantly  she  divined.  "You  told  him  about  what 
the  prince  said !"  she  accused. 

He  admitted  it.    "I  thought  he  ought  to  know." 

She  considered. 

"Perhaps  you're  right,  Austin.  They  might  have 
had  their  suspicions  aroused,  and  sent  someone  over 
here  to  investigate.  I  didn't  like  the  way  that  Japanese 
looked  at  us  when  we  spoke  of  the  model,  either.  So 
Lee's  gone!  Well " 

She  pushed  her  plate  away  and  rested  her  head  en 
her  hands.  The  defection  of  her  Chinese  mentor 
meant  much  to  her.  His  was  a  place  impossible  to  fill. 

"He  left  a  letter  and  a  package  for  you,"  continued 
Austin.  "Here  they  are." 

He  took  them  from  the  sideboard  and  placed  them 
before  her.  He  was  a  man  lacking  the  reality  of  honor 
with  curious  absoluteness,  but  he  had  those  superficial- 


THE  EYES  OF  BUDDHA  69 

ities  of  the  idea  which  had  restrained  his  curiosity  as  to 
contents  of  letter  and  package. 

Bess  excused  herself  and  opened  the  letter.  It  was 
written  in  English,  and  in  a  small,  carefully  formed 
chirography. 

LITTLE  PLUM-BLOSSOM  :  Austin  has  told  me  of  the  sight  which 
the  Prince  has  had  of  my  picture.  It  was  most  unwise,  little 
Flower  of  My  Heart,  that  such  was  seen  by  him,  for  I  am  no 
longer  able  to  remain  near  you. 

All  that  His  Highness  told  you  holds  truth  in  it.  I  am  he  of 
the  White  Banner  of  whom  he  spoke,  the  exiled  Manchu. 

There  will  be  no  rest  now  until  they  have  found  me  and  taken 
from  me  the  Keys  of  the  Door  of  the  Double-Dragon.  But  of 
this  they  shall  have  no  chance,  for  I  leave  in  the  sandalwood  box 
the  keys  in  your  keeping. 

Guard  them  as  I  pray  the  Gods  guard  thee. 

Thy,  LEE. 

"What  does  he  say?" 

"That's  my  business !" 

"Oh,  indeed!"  sneered  Austin.  "Then,  maybe,  it'll 
be  my  business  to  tell  Prince  Chu'un  how  you  lied  to 
him ;  and  also  that  Lee  left  a  letter  and  a  box  for  you." 

"You'd  hardly  do  that!" 

"Wouldn't  I?  Well,  you  keep  your  eyes  on  little 
Austin,  and  you'll  see  what  he'll  do.  I'm  sick  of  the 
way  you're  treating  me,  Bess — and — well,  I've  had 
enough.  What  does  he  say?" 


70    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DKAGON 

He  snatched  the  letter  as  he  spoke,  and  read  it.  She 
watched  him,  coldly  contemptuous,  and  said  nothing 
when  he  gave  it  back,  his  eyes  glowing  with  antici- 
pation. 

"Bess,"  he  choked,  "do  you  see  what  this  means? 
Why,  he's  left  us  a  fortune.  The  keys  to  the  treasure- 
house — to  the  seven  thousand  eyes  of  Buddha — the 
diamonds !  Bess,  do  you  realize  that  he's  made  us  the 
richest  people  in  the  world  ?  That " 

She  was  unwrapping  the  package,  cutting  the  string 
with  the  pocket-knife  Austin  had  opened  and  given 
her. 

"Don't  be  ridiculous,"  she  said. 

With  the  tiny  key  that  had  been  inclosed  in  the  letter 
she  unlocked  the  carved  sandalwood  box.  Opening  it, 
she  found  reposing  on  a  tray  of  yellow  satin  a  short 
squat  key  of  rusty  iron,  cut  into  many  notches.  The 
second  tray  had  a  smaller  key  of  copper;  the  third, 
diminished  in  size,  was  of  silver;  and  the  last,  and 
most  diminutive,  on  the  bottom  tray  over  the  imperial 
Double-Dragon,  a  tiny  key  of  gold,  carved  and  twisted 
into  such  an  utterly  fantastic  shape  that,  had  they  not 
known  it  to  be  a  key,  they  might  have  speculated  in- 
correctly as  to  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  intended. 

Bess  put  back  the  trays  and  locked  the  box.  Austin 
was  looking  at  her,  stunned. 


THE  EYES  OF  BUDDHA  71 

"We're  the  richest  people  in  the  world,"  he  said 
dully. 

"Austin!" 

"Well?"    He  roused  himself. 

"Don't  be  ridiculous,  as  I  told  you  once  before." 

"I'm  not  ridiculous,"  he  said  hotly.  "We  heard  the 
prince  say  that  tradition  kept  this  place  from  being 
opened  with  anything  except  the  official  keys.  We've 
got  the  keys,  and,  consequently " 

"In  the  first  place,"  interrupted  Bess,  in  a  very  quiet 
tone,  the  quietness  that  Austin  feared,  "these  keys 
were  entrusted  to  me  to  guard.  Consequently  they 
shall  be  locked  away  in  my  safe-deposit  vault  at  the 
Mercantile  Bank  until  Lee  comes  back  and  asks  for 
them." 

"Wha-a-a-t !"    Austin  had  sprung  to  his  feet. 

"In  the  second  place,"  she  continued  without 
noticing  his  interruption,  "these  keys  fit  doors  in  the 
Forbidden  City  in  Peking.  People  who  do  not  belong 
to  the  imperial  court  are  not  allowed  there.  There 
have  been  only  three  or  four  white  people  in  all  history 
who  ever  lived  in  the  Forbidden  City — and  two  of 
them  died  there !" 

"But " 

"In  the  third  place,  these  diamonds  do  not  belong 
to  us  or  to  anyone  who  finds  them.  They  are  not  treas- 


72    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

ure-trove.  They  are  the  property  of  the  Emperor  of 
China.  Consequently  to  take  them  would  be  stealing 
—wouldn't  it?" 

She  arose. 

"And,  fourthly,  Austin  Courtney,  if  you  say  any- 
thing to  anybody  about  Lee  or  about  this  affair,  I  shall 
leave  this  house  for  good  and  all,  and  let  you  shift 
entirely  for  yourself.  Now,  good-night — don't  bother 
me  any  more." 

"Damn  her!"  muttered  Austin,  as  the  door  closed 
behind  the  painter  of  Prince  Chu'un's  portrait. 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  CLIMAX  OF  CONSPIRING  CIRCUMSTANCES 

EAR  God!"  prayed  the  girl. 

For  more  than  a  month  Austin  had  been 
haunting  her,  haggard  and  gaunt-eyed. 
Numberless  times  he  had  tried  to  confide  in  her,  but 
the  words  would  not  out.  But  at  last,  thoroughly 
wretched,  he  had  torn  away  the  veil,  exposed  the  mis- 
erable degrading  story. 

Two  dear  old  ladies  were  their  maiden  aunts.  Up 
to  several  years  before  they  had  conducted  a  school  for 
little  girls ;  but  by  an  unexpected  rise  in  some  inherited 
real  estate  they  had  found  themselves  the  possessors  of 
only  a  little  less  than  a  hundred  thousand  dollars.  On 
this  they  retired.  Austin  had  persuaded  them  to  en- 
trust to  him  the  money  for  investment. 

He  had  speculated  with  it  on  his  own  account — and 
lost! 

The  girl  was  crying  softly.  She  loved  them  very 
dearly,  Aunt  Malvinia  and  Aunt  Kitty.  She  had 
always  been  sure  of  cake  and  candy  when  she  went 

73 


74    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

to  see  them  Sundays.  They  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
buying  picture-books  and  keeping  them  on  the  library- 
table  just  for  her  to  read.  They  had  denied  themselves 
to  help  her;  had  paid  for  her  instruction  in  painting; 
had — why,  she  owed  everything  to  those  dear  old 
maiden  ladies ! 

There  was  the  little  white  house  just  around  the 
corner  from  the  club;  the  little  white  house  with  the 
green  holland  blinds  and  her  great-grandfather's  pic- 
ture in  the  hall — very  gallant  that  grandsire  in  his 
uniform  as  one  of  George  Washington's  aides.  There 
was  the  much-thumbed  copy  of  "Alice  in  Wonderland" 
on  her  own  little  reading-table,  sacred  to  her  use  alone, 
and  with  the  book-mark  that  Aunt  Kitty  had  embroi- 
dered. The  paintings  of  Austin  and  herself,  side  by 
side,  in  the  little  reception-room,  dusted  every  day  by 
loving  hands,  thin,  wrinkled,  gentle,  patrician  hands. 
Dear  Aunt  Malvinia  and  Aunt  Kitty! 

Eeverybody  loved  them!  It  was  to  their  school 
that  all  the  debutantes  had  gone  until  they  were  old 
enough  for  convent  or  boarding-school.  Eeverybody 
had  been  rejoiced  that  they  were  now  able  quietly  to 
live  out  the  autumn  of  their  lives — for  there  was  no 
winter  for  such  as  they.  It  was  too  harsh  a  term. 
Theirs  was  the  autumn,  the  golden-brown,  kindly 
autumn.  And  now 


CONSPIRING  CIRCUMSTANCES  75 

"Dear  God!" 

"Well,  well?"  Austin  demanded  fretfully.  "What 
are  we  going  to  do — eh?  What  are  we  going  to  do?" 

The  eyes  of  brother  and  sister  met.  He  shrank  at 
the  fire  gleaming  from  behind  the  tear-stained  lashes. 

"You  low  beast!"  said  the  girl. 

"Well?" 

She  did  not  answer  him,  but  went,  rather,  to  the 
studio  window  overlooking  the  park,  parted  the  cur- 
tains, and  stared  out  across  the  park.  Again  her  sor- 
row overcame  her,  and  she  fell  among  the  cushions  of 
the  bay  windows,  sobbing,  choking  out  her  grief. 

Austin  came  nearer. 

"Now,  now!"  he  soothed. 

"I  hate  you.     Go  away." 

"You've  got  to  face  it,  haven't  you?"  he  asked 
doggedly.  "And  how?  You  can't  raise  more  than  a 
few  thousand  at  the  most.  I  can't  raise  a  rotten  penny. 
Ever  since  they  made  me  resign  at  the  bank  I've  been 
on  my  uppers,  and  you  know  it.  I  thought  I  could 
make  good — Bess,  I  was  going  to  give  them  half  the 
profits — it  would  have  been  a  good  thing  for  them,  too. 
And  it  looked  easy,  so  damned  easy.  I  stood  to  make 
fifty  per  cent  on  the  investment.  I'd  have  paid  my 
debts  and  had  a  goodish  lot  left.  It  was  a " 

"If  I'd  only  known!"  she  said,  in  a  low,  strained 


76    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

voice.  "If  I'd  only  known!  But  I  never  dreamed  of 
your  having  it — never  dreamed  of  it.  I  thought  they 
had  it  in  bank — safe  in  bank." 

"They  did — drawing  a  miserable  three  and  a  half 
per  cent!  I  got  'em  to  get  it  out  and " 

She  sat  up  and  faced  him.     Her  tone  was  vicious. 

"I  wish  you  were  dead,  Austin  Courtney;  quite 
dead,  quite  dead." 

He  laughed  recklessly. 

"You've  got  a  good  chance  of  your  wish  coming 
true  when  this  comes  out — no  mistake  there !" 

"It  mustn't  come  out — mustn't.  It  must  be  paid 
back.  I  suppose  you  understand  that,  Austin.  I  can 
go  on  giving  them  enough  to  make  them  think  the 
interest's  being  drawn.  After  that " 

"Well — what?"  he  demanded.  "That's  all  in  your 
eye,  you  know.  How  are  you  going  to  pay  it  back? 
Art's  no  money-maker.  If  you  make  six  thousand  a 
year  you're  doing  well — and  we  need  all  of  that." 

"We?"     Much  to  sting  him  in  that  tone. 

"Why,  you  little "  But  he  only  said  that  much, 

for  the  light  in  her  eyes  frightened  him.  He  averted 
his  gaze,  and  there  was  a  silence  for  a  time  almost  in- 
terminable to  both  of  them.  Then  he  spoke  suddenly. 

"There  is  a  way !" 

She  waited  for  him  to  explain. 


CONSPIRING  CIRCUMSTANCES  77 

"How  about  the  keys  that  Lee  left?  A  handful  of 
those  diamonds  would  pay  the  whole  hundred  thou- 
sand— and  a  hanged  sight  more!  Not  many — not 
enough  to  be  missed — just  a  handful,  Bess.  Why, 
what  good  are  they  doing  anybody  where  they  are? 
And  they'd  never  be  missed." 

"No,"  she  said,  and  sat  silent.  He  became  angry, 
and  mocked  her. 

"You're  afraid!  Sunday-school  scruples  say  it's 
wrong — wrong  to  take  something  that  nobody  has  any 
use  for,  to  keep  a  whole  family  from  disgrace,  to  keep 
me  from  shooting  myself,  to  keep  your  aunts  out  of 
the  poorhouse!" 

She  bit  her  lip  and  breathed  heavily.  This  was  her 
brother  speaking,  her  brother ! 

He  went  on,  not  realizing  his  peril. 

"You'd  rather  see  our  Baltimore  friends  take  up  a 
collection  to  keep  the  old  tabbies  out  of  the  poorhouse, 
would  you?  Oh,  yes,  I  dare  say  you  would.  That's 
better  of  you — why,  you  devil !" 

For,  with  a  sudden  swing  of  her  arm  she  had  struck 
him  squarely  in  the  mouth  with  clenched  hand.  He 
almost  fell.  Afraid  to  face  her,  he  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands. 

"Don't,  Bess!" 


78    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

The  angry  crimson  in  her  cheeks  faded  out  into 
whiteness.  She  paused,  her  fingers  relaxed. 

"No,  I  won't!" 

It  was  that  very  quiet  tone  that  Austin  had  heard 
before  and  which  showed  him  the  naked  unmanliness 
of  himself. 

"No,  I  won't  touch  so  poor  a  thing  as  you,  Austin 
Courtney!  A  thing  that  steals  from  helpless  old 
women  and  foists  its  burden  on  another  woman. 
Women!  They've  been  very  good  to  you,  haven't 
they,  Austin?  They  like  the  way  you  smile  at  them, 
the  way  your  hair  waves !  They  like  you,  don't  they, 
Austin?  Men  don't,  do  they?  Because  men  know 
men ;  and  you  aren't  a  man.  No,  only  a  thing  that  finds 
women  useful — and  a  thief!  And  you  want  me  to  be 
a  thief,  too — to  save  you !" 

"Bess!" 

"Yes,  that's  the  naked  truth,  isn't  it?  You  want  me 
to  save  you !  Do  you  care  what  becomes  of  Aunt  Mal- 
vinia  and  Aunt  Kitty  ?  Not  the  tiniest  little  bit,  Austin 
Courtney.  No!  That's  the  lever  to  work  me  with. 
Because  you  know  how  I  care  for  them,  how  terribly 
fond  I've  always  been  of  them.  So  you  try  to  use  that 
to  save  yourself — and — you've  a  good  conception  of 
women's  weaknesses.  For  I  would  steal  those  jewels 
for  Aunt  Kitty  and  Aunt  Malvinia." 


CONSPIRING  CIRCUMSTANCES  79 

Her  last  words  dissipated  to  his  mind  all  the  con- 
tumely. He  had  won.  She  would  do  it. 

"You — you  will?"  he  stammered. 

"I  said  I  would,"  she  returned  quietly.  "But  there's 
no  way — no  possible  way.  The  jewels  are  in  the  For- 
bidden City.  How  am  I — to " 

He  interrupted,  eagerly  suggesting. 

"Split  it  with  Wrenne.  He's  not  the  kind  to  turn 
down  a  proposition  like  that!  He's  going  back  to 
Peking.  He's  got  the  run  of  the  Forbidden  City.  You 
give  him  the  key  and  get  him  to  do  it  for  you,  and  let 
him  take  his  share !" 

"Impossible!"  burst  from  her. 

"Why?" 

She  was  at  a  loss  to  answer  him  fitly.  The  idea  ad- 
vanced represented  surely  the  sensible  thing  to  do.  She 
had  no  reason  to  believe  from  what  she  knew  of  the 
gentleman  adventurer  that  he  would  do  anything  save 
eagerly  accept  such  a  chance  for  wealth.  His  casque 
of  reputation  bore  no  stainless  white  plume.  He  was 
a  plotter,  intriguer,  hired  mercenary.  As  a  boy  dis- 
missed from  the  service  of  his  own  country  for  evil 
habits,  he  had  seemed  to  carry  out  the  future  prophe- 
sied for  him.  Why  not,  then? 

She  reasoned  this  very  thoroughly,  but  still  she  re- 


80         DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

peated  her  negative  when  Austin  would  have  con- 
vinced her. 

"You  want  him  to  think  you're  a  little  tin  saint,  eh  ?" 
Rightly  had  she  named  Austin's  influence.  He  had 
little  brain,  less  reasoning  power,  no  moral  standards; 
but  a  keen  intuition  where  the  other  sex  was  concerned 
stood  him  in  lieu  of  the  first  two  lacks  and  abetted  the 
last.  Bess  tried  to  disguise  her  angry,  labored  breath- 
ing by  holding  her  breath.  She  dared  not  risk 
speaking  at  all. 

Until  Austin  had  made  his  comment,  she  had  not 
known  herself.  But  it  was  truth.  She  did  covet  this 
man's  belief  in  her  goodness,  or,  rather,  her  striving 
after  the  better  things.  She  liked  to  believe  that  she 
was  an  influence  for  better  in  his  life.  It  was  quite 
plain  to  her  that  if  he  became  her  co-partner  in  the 
scheme  to  take  the  diamonds  there  would  come  the 
shattering  of  the  standards  she  had  set  for  him  to 
measure  her  by. 

Austin  continued,  with  an  angry  sneer: 
"That's  your  style.  Get  a  goody-goody  boy  and  you 
try  to  make  him  bad — look  at  Tommy  Worthington 
that  you  used  to  call  prude  because  he  thought  it  a  sin 
to  bet  on  races  and  be  a  game  'un.  Then  you  get  hold 
of  this  chap  who  is  an  out-and-out  rake  and  tell  him 
how  wicked  he  is,  and " 


CONSPIRING  CIRCUMSTANCES  81 

"That's  enough!"  she  said  rising.  "Quite  enough. 
You'd  better  go  down  to  the  station  and  take  the  train 
home.  I  shan't  be  over  to-night.  I'll  stay  here  and 
try  to  think  this  out,  somehow,  then " 

She  stopped.  Someone  was  coming  up  the  stairs, 
two  at  a  step.  She  waited  until  she  heard  the  knock 
on  the  door. 

"Hello,  Bess!    In?" 

"There's  Wrenne,  now!"  said  Austin,  in  an  excited 
whisper.  "Let  me  stay  and  arrange  the  whole  thing 
right  now." 

But  she  had  been  abruptly  reminded  of  another 
reason  she  had  forgotten.  The  keys  that  she  held  had 
been  entrusted  to  her  by  Gordon  Lee.  She  had  no 
ownership  in  them.  They  were  not  even  hers  by  right 
of  the  person  who  had  stolen  them. 

"Austin,  I  can't,"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone.  "I'd  for- 
gotten about  Lee,  too.  He  trusted  me  with  the  keys. 
I  can't  go  back  on  him.  It's  off,  Austin,  all  off " 

He  flung  out  a  furious  curse. 

"Heavens,  how  wicked!"  remarked  the  man  on  the 
other  side  of  the  door  politely.  "Want  any  assistance, 
Bess?" 

"Come  in,  Colonel  Wrenne." 

They  heard  him  open  the  door  and  heard  the  clatter 


82    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

of  his  stick  and  hat  on  a  side-table.  It  was  too  dark 
to  more  than  vaguely  distinguish  his  form. 

"Who's  here?  Oh,  you— Courtney !  I  thought  I 
recognized  your  style  in  that  remark  I  caught." 

"Look  here,  Wrenne,"  said  Austin  shortly.  "You're 
not  personal  supervisor  of  my  manners,  you  know. 
Nor  are  you  in  any  way  entitled  to  call  me  down  as 
often  as  you  do.  I  want  you  to  remember  that !" 

Wrenne  answered  him  coolly: 

"You  can  be  as  boorish  as  you  like  to  other  people — 
and  to  me.  I  don't  mind !  But  it  strikes  me  you  aren't 
sufficiently  impressed  with  the  fact  that  you  are  pretty 
much  of  a  lucky  dog  to  have  Bess  for  a  sister.  There- 
fore  " 

Bess  interfered.  "The  discussion  isn't  in  very  good 
taste,"  she  said  coldly. 

"You're  right,  it  isn't.  But  I  wasn't  harking  back  to 
old  things.  Something's  happened  to-day — something 
that  gives  you  somewhat  of  a  laurel  wreath — did  you 
know  that,  Bess  ?" 

"No.    What  is  it?"    She  was  not  greatly  interested. 

"I  don't  know  that  I  should  forestall  the  prince.  You 
see,  he's  coming  here  in  a  few  minutes  to  tell  you  him- 
self. So  when  he  does  you  want  to  make  him  believe 
you  haven't  heard  it  before.  But  I  wanted  to  be  the 
first  person  to  bring  you  the  news !" 


CONSPIRING  CIRCUMSTANCES  83 

Now  she  was  aware  that  the  matter  was  of  im- 
portance. But  her  head  was  too  full  of  the  other  affair 
to  give  her  a  clue  to  his  meaning. 

"Your  painting  arrived  in  Peking  a  few  days  ago. 
The  emperor  inspected  it  yesterday,  and  immediately 
wired  to  the  prince  to  bring  you  back  to  China  with  us 
to  paint  his  portrait!  Now,  what  do  you  say  to  that? 
To  paint  the  portrait  of  His  Imperial  Majesty,  Kwang- 
Hsu!" 

It  was  fortunate  for  her  that  it  was  dark.  As  it 
was,  he  did  not  see  her  face  nor  her  gestures,  nor  the 
greedy  eyes  of  Austin  Courtney  lighting  up. 

"I — I  can't  accept,"  she  said  presently. 

"Can't  accept !"  shouted  Austin.    "Can't " 

Wrenne  broke  in. 

"My  dear  girl,"  he  soothed,  "that's  foolish.  Chu'un 
and  I  are  returning  to  China  next  week.  We  have  a 
special  train  across  country,  and  a  special  section  of  a 
liner  reserved  for  us.  You  will  have  every  con- 
venience and  will  be  looked  after  absolutely.  Think 
what  it  means !  You'll  have  the  run  of  the  Forbidden 
City.  You'll  paint  the  emperor's  portrait,  get  an  inside 
view  into  a  life  that  will  be  invaluable  to  you  in  your 
work — and,  besides,  I  want  you  to  come." 

She  knew  that  he  did.  She  did  not  tell  him  that 
was  one  of  her  reasons  for  refusing.  The  other  was 


84    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

Gordon  Lee's  trust  in  her.  A  third  might  have  been 
found  in  the  fact  that  she  could  not  accept  the  hospi- 
tality of  those  from  whom  she  intended  to  steal. 

"Of  course  you'll  accept,"  Wrenne  went  on.  "Now, 
if  you  will  pardon  me,  I'll  go  out  into  the  hall  and 
telephone  the  Willard.  I  want  you  to  dine  with  me 
to-night  and  talk  over  arrangements.  I  dare  say  the 
prince  will  be  here  in  a  moment  or  so." 

He  left  brother  and  sister  alone  again.  Austin 
gripped  her  arm. 

"Think  of  the  chance!  Think  of  it!  The  way's 
wide  open.  You  don't  have  to  call  on  Wrenne.  You 
can  do  the  trick  yourself — yourself!  Think  of  it! 
And  you're  refusing!  You  don't  mean  it,  Bess,  you 
don't  mean  it.  Do  you  want  to  see  Aunt  Malvinia  and 
Aunt  Kitty " 

"That's  enough!" 

"Well,  it  isn't  enough,"  he  continued  furiously. 
"Not  enough  for  me,  at  any  rate.  I'll  see  whether 
you " 

"I  can't  do  it,  Austin,"  she  said. 

Having  regained  her  composure  in  all  seemingness, 
she  switched  on  the  electric  lights  which  glowed  out 
of  Bohemian  glass  vases  on  mantels  and  filigreed 
lamps  swung  from  the  ceiling.  The  glow  fell  warmly 
on  rugs  and  carved  furniture,  on  the  walls  covered 


CONSPIRING  CIRCUMSTANCES  85 

with  pictures,  framed  and  otherwise,  sketches  in  inks, 
studies  in  water-colors,  a  few  small  oils.  Looking 
down  from  his  place  by  the  window,  Austin  saw  a 
carriage  draw  up  before  the  curb  of  the  house.  A 
robed  figure  got  out,  followed  by  several  others. 

"Here  comes  the  prince,"  he  said,  with  savage  in- 
tensity. "You'll  be  sorry  every  day  of  your  life  after 
this  if  you  turn  this  thing  down." 

They  waited  in  silence  for  the  prince's  rap.  When 
it  came,  Bess  opened  the  door  for  him,  greeting  him 
and  the  Japanese,  Ito  Ugichi,  who  followed  with 
several  of  the  legation  attaches  whom  Bess  knew 
only  slightly — gravely  smiling  Chinese  with  intensely 
indifferent  countenances. 

She  asked  the  prince  and  his  companions  to  have 
tea.  He  refused,  with  formal  politeness. 

"This — it  is  official,  Miss  Portrait-Painter,"  he  said. 
"Wung-Han,  will  you  give  to  the  young  lady  the  scroll 
you  have  prepared?" 

One  of  the  legation  attaches  handed  her  a  formal- 
looking  roll  of  parchment  from  which  dangled  several 
seals.  For  all  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion  and  the 
issues  involved,  her  sense  of  the  ludicrous  harked  for- 
ward a  simile  of  her  childhood.  Wung-Han  marvel- 
ously  resembled  the  Frog  Footman. 

Following  the  delivery,  the  attache  indulged  in  the 


86    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

peroration  prepared  for  the  occasion,  a  seemingly  un- 
ending affair,  which  brought  in  all  the  titles,  appella- 
tions, and  similes  advertising  to  His  Imperial  Majesty. 
Prince  Chu'un's  explanation,  which  followed  in  Eng- 
lish, summed  the  matter  up  much  as  Hamilton  Wrenne 
had  done. 

The  emperor  was  pleased  with  Prince  Chu'un's 
portrait.  He  wished  the  same  hand  to  paint  one  of 
himself.  He  tendered  to  the  painter  the  freedom  of 
the  sacred  city,  and  would  have  a  palace  put  aside  for 
her  special  use.  The  remuneration  was  to  be  what- 
ever she  desired,  her  expenses  were  to  be  paid,  and, 
in  conclusion,  the  emperor  wished  her  long  life  and 
many  sons. 

All  in  a  daze,  she  thanked  the  prince,  trying  to  lead 
up  in  some  way  to  a  refusal.  She  knew  she  must 
refuse ;  but,  somehow,  the  words  stuck  in  her  throat. 
She  looked  dully  across  to  where  Austin  glowered 
at  her. 

The  silence  that  ensued  was  broken  by  the  shrill 
whistling  of  some  popular  street  song  on  the  part  of 
someone  ascending  the  stairs.  The  whistling  came 
to  a  close  when  the  whistler  knocked  sharply  on  the 
door. 

"Come  in!" 

A  boy  in  the  blue  of  the  Postal  Telegraph  stopped 


CONSPIRING  CIRCUMSTANCES  87 

on  the  threshold,  gazing  at  the  various  dignitaries  in 
no  evident  embarrassment. 

"Gee!"  he  said. 

Bess  looked  at  him.     "Well,  little  boy?" 

"You  Miss  'Lizabeth  Courtney?" 

She  nodded.  He  came  across  to  her  with  a  queer 
side-step  of  a  gait,  and  gave  her  a  telegram.  She 
signed  for  it,  and,  excusing  herself  to  those  present, 
broke  it  open. 

MAYANALAINE  BERMUDAS, 

The  seventh. 
Miss  ELIZABETH  COURTNEY, 

Washington  City,  U.  S.  A. 

Chinese  known  as  G.  Lee  died  here  to-day,  leaving  unofficial 
will  bequeathing  a  thousand  dollars  and  other  properties  to  you. 
Wire  instructions. 

K.  L.   HAYDEN, 

Vice-Consul,  U.  S. 

She  put  up  one  hand  to  loosen  the  niching  at  her 
neck.  The  room  seemed  hot — she  was  gasping  for 
air. 

"The  window,  Austin,"  she  choked. 

It  was  a  genuinely  alarmed  Austin  who  allowed  the 
air  to  come  through  the  room.  The  girl  sat  down 
and  folded  the  telegram  with  trembling  hands,  putting 
it,  for  security,  in  her  belt. 


88    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

"Any  answer,  lady?" 

She  shook  her  head,  and  the  Postal  Telegraph  boy 
went  out.  He  picked  up  the  strain  of  his  song  where 
he  had  left  it  when  he  entered,  and  the  assembled 
company  heard  it  until  he  slammed  the  door  below. 
Even  then  the  echo  of  it  floated  up  from  the  street 
through  the  open  window. 

Gordon  Lee  was  dead!  He  had  left  everything  to 
her — including  the  keys  to  the  doors  of  the  Double- 
Dragon.  It  seemed  that  circumstances  were  conspir- 
ing to  make  of  her  a  thief.  She  had  no  excuse  now, 
none!  Each  one  had  been  swept  away  by  the  con- 
spiring circumstances. 

"Little  Miss  Portrait-Painter,"  said  Prince  Chu'un, 
"you  are  very  ill — we  do  not  trouble  you  more.  We 
go." 

He  made  a  sign  to  his  companions.  They  moved 
toward  the  door.  But  it  was  opened  for  them  from 
the  outside,  and  Hamilton  Wrenne  entered.  He 
saluted  the  prince  gravely,  and  turned  to  Bess. 

"Well — the  prince  has  told  you?" 

She  nodded.  Somewhat  taken  aback  by  her  ap- 
pearance, he  came  forward  and  put  a  hand  solicitously 
on  her  shoulder. 

She  looked  up.  The  prince  was  smiling  in  kindly 
fashion,  but  there  was  a  certain  amount  of  expectancy 


CONSPIRING  CIRCUMSTANCES  89 

in  his  glance.  Austin  was  glowering  at  her.  Black 
Wrenne  was  tender. 

"So  you're  going  with  us,  Bess?" 

The  girl  got  up  and  crossed  the  floor  to  where  the 
prince  stood.  She  bowed  her  head  and  made  a  motion 
of  carrying  Chu'un's  long,  clawlike  hands  to  her  lips. 

Turning,  she  looked  at  Wrenne. 

"Yes,"  she  said. 


BOOK  THE  SECOND 


CHAPTER  I 
AN  AUDIENCE  WITH  THE  SON  OF  HEAVEN 

PRINCE  CHU'UN  and  his  escort  had  entered 
the  imperial  city  the  night  before,  leaving 
Bess  at  the  American  legation  in  the  Tartar 
city.  It  was  arranged  that  she  should  have  her  audi- 
ence in  the  morning. 

The  American  legation  held  forth  in  a  former 
Chinese  temple,  just  under  the  red  walls  of  the  im- 
perial city,  named  "forbidden"  by  the  foreigners.  The 
official  green  chair  that  came  for  Bess  had,  therefore, 
not  far  to  be  carried  by  the  palanquin-bearers,  sturdy 
coolies  in  the  trappings  of  imperial  servants.  Before 
the  chair  went  soldiers  of  the  Palace  Guard,  driving 
the  staring  natives  out  of  the  way.  On  either  side  of 
the  chair  were  more  of  the  military  to  prevent  the 
lower  orders  from  crowding  the  chair;  and  behind 
marched  yet  more  for  the  same  purpose. 

Bess  did  not  fancy  the  Tartar  city.  It  was  pic- 
turesque, but  very  dirty  and  smelly.  Water,  long 
stagnant,  lay  in  broken  places  of  the  causeway,  and 


94    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

heaps  of  refuse  cried  aloud  to  heaven.  She  found 
her  relief  in  inspecting  the  lacquered  fronts  of  the 
shops,  and  the  red  signs  and  pennants  which  swung 
with  the  wind,  advertising  in  up-and-down  ideographs 
the  merits  of  various  brands  of  edibles.  But  this  was 
all  much  of  a  sameness;  and  she  breathed  a  sigh  of 
relief  when  they  reached  one  of  the  great  gates  in 
the  wall  surrounding  the  imperial  city. 

The  officer  of  the  guard  cried,  gutturally,  to  the 
guardians  of  the  gate,  and  it  swung  open.  Bess  had 
a  little  shiver  of  apprehension.  She  wished  suddenly 
for  the  presence  of  Hamilton  Wrenne.  She  remem- 
bered that  she  was  entirely  alone  and  about  to  go 
within  the  mysterious  city  of  which  she  had  heard 
so  many  gruesome  tales.  The  thought  of  why  she 
had  come  suddenly  chilled  her. 

The  palanquin  had  passed  over  the  stone  bridge  of 
the  canal  while  she  was  in  the  grip  of  her  terror. 
Looking  from  the  windows,  she  saw  the  battlements, 
turrets,  and  moat  of  the  Winter  Palace,  its  walls,  once 
red,  now  softened  to  a  pale  cherry  hue.  Hamilton 
Wrenne  had  described  the  palace  so  often  to  her,  en 
route,  that  she  could  not  fail  to  recognize  it. 

The  raised  road  over  which  she  was  being  carried 
was  a  picture  of  animated  color,  with  its  official  chairs 
of  green,  bedizened  carts,  and  splendidly  trapped 


THE  SON  OF  HEAVEN  9fi 

horses.  One  must  go  gayly  attired  into  the  imperial 
city,  and  all  were  obedient.  Here  Greater  China  was 
represented;  the  melancholy,  mustached  Tartars;  the 
apparently  noseless  Mongols,  fur-dressed  and  leather- 
booted,  the  nobles  among  them  riding  on  gaudily  hung 
camels;  the  yellow-gowned  lamas  from  the  temples; 
the  Cantonese  striving  to  make  up  in  color  for  what 
they  lacked  in  stature ;  the  strapping  Manchus,  seldom 
short  of  six  feet,  striding  majestically  as  though  con- 
scious of  the  fact  that  their  dynasty  ruled.  Here  one 
had  attaches  of  the  Foreign  Office  and  the  yamens, 
taotais,  and  viceroys  come  to  "save  their  faces"; 
officers  of  the  army  riding  white  horses — all  Chinese 
these  officers  with  two  exceptions,  a  rather  large- 
statured  Japanese,  who  passed,  talking  with  a  fresh- 
faced  young  Englishman  who  looked  as  though  he 
might  have  been  a  Sandhurst  boy. 

And  now  the  great  fact  of  the  palace  itself ! 

Bess  was  not  prepared  for  the  intricate  array  of 
winding  passages,  high  walls,  heavy  gates,  and  huge, 
iron-spiked  doors  through  which  they  passed  after; 
entering  the  palace  gates.  She  reflected,  with  a  shud- 
der, on  the  impossibility  of  Bess  Courtney,  stranger, 
finding  her  way  out  of  the  palace  without  assistance. 
More  keenly  than  ever  she  regretted  her  resolve.  Her 
face  was  very  white,  her  lips  pale.  To  embark  on 


96    DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

such  a  quest  in  a  country  where  the  Chinese  are  much 
mocked  and  little  feared  was  a  different  thing  from 
assuming  nonchalance  as  to  the  same  purpose  when 
the  mystery,  secrecy,  and  strength  of  the  Ming  dynasty 
was  made  manifest  to  her. 

Her  green  chair  had  been  changed  for  a  red  one, 
after  entering  the  great  gate,  and  in  this  she  was 
carried  through  a  labyrinth  of  white,  paved  courts, 
until  she  came  to  a  very  central  one,  where  a  number 
of  cedar-trees  sheltered  the  stones  from  the  heat  of 
the  morning  sun,  and  where  beautiful  shrubs,  plants, 
and  flowers  almost  intoxicated  her  with  their  perfume. 
She  found  that  her  chair  had  been  lowered  to  the 
ground.  She  stepped  out. 

A  number  of  palace  eunuchs  in  embroidered  robes 
of  office  were  bowing  to  her.  Three  of  them  preceded 
her,  making  signs  that  she  was  to  follow.  The  others 
took  up  the  rear.  The  plate-glass  doors  of  the  palace, 
resplendent  with  a  huge  character  enameled  in  red  and 
indicating  longevity,  swung  back  without  noise.  She 
entered,  and  found  herself  in  the  throne-room. 

It  was  a  long  hall,  paved  with  blocks  of  black 
marble,  having  red  walls  and  a  dome-shaped  roof, 
that  glinted  gold  in  the  morning  sunlight.  In  the 
center  of  the  south  side  were  the  great  doors  through 
which  she  had  entered,  directly  opposite  a  red- 


THE  SON  OF  HEAVEN  97 

lacquered  throne,  approached  by  five  steps  of  varying 
widths.  Near  the  throne  were  gathered  the  ladies 
of  the  court,  splendid  in  their  gold-embroidered  cos- 
tumes, with  gems  on  their  capes  and  flowers  in  their 
hair.  As  the  eunuch  stood  by  the  door  calling  out  in 
low  gutturals,  several  of  these  court  ladies  approached 
Bess,  and  one  of  them  spoke  to  her,  quite  prettily,  in 
English. 

"You  are  the  portrait-painter?  I  am  Na-Leng.  My 
father  was  minister  to  your  country  at  one  time " 

She  spoke  a  trifle  stiltedly,  and  had  the  usual  diffi- 
culty with  her  r's.  Pretty  she  was  not,  according  to 
European  standards,  but  Bess,  familiar  with  the 
Oriental  idea,  knew  that  Na-Leng  was  most  greatly 
desired.  She  was  in  a  long  loose  gown  of  rare  satin 
stuff,  painted  with  bird-and-sky  effects,  wore  a  pro- 
fusion of  jewelry  and  ornaments,  and  had  on  satin 
boots  with  white  kid  soles.  Bess  knew  her  at  once 
for  a  Manchu  girl  and  one  of  high  rank. 

"I  want  to  be  your  flend,"  said  Na-Leng.  "You 
remember  me — now  I  go  back.  Come.  She  ap- 
proaches." 

Some  cymbals  and  flutes  sounded  the  Imperial 
Hymn,  preceding  the  coming  of  majesty.  The  doors 
were  thrown  open.  Two  lines  of  gorgeously  vestured 
eunuchs  walked  stiff -legged  into  the  court.  In  the 


98     DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

sudden  quietness  an  open  chair  was  carried  to  the 
center  of  the  hall.  Another  chair  followed.  It  was 
put  down  alongside  the  first.  Behind  the  first  chair 
stood  a  maid  of  honor,  while  behind  the  second  was 
Hamilton  Wrenne  in  the  full  dress  of  the  Chinese 
Army. 

Their  majesties  alighted.  The  dowager  empress 
took  the  throne-seat,  her  nephew,  the  emperor,  seating 
himself  on  a  hassock  by  her  side.  Bess  surveyed  them 
both  with  eager  eyes. 

The  much-discussed  Tze-Hsi  was  in  a  gown  of 
stiff,  transparent  silk,  embroidered  with  pearls  and 
fastened  on  one  side  from  neck  to  hem  with  jade  but- 
tons. About  her  neck  was  a  rope  of  pearls  having 
for  pendant  a  large,  pale  ruby.  Her  hair  was  parted 
in  the  middle  and  brought  over  her  brows.  The  third 
and  fourth  finger-nails  of  either  hand  were  like  talons, 
and  were  protected  by  gold  guards.  She  wore  no 
paint,  and  her  skin  was  fresh,  having  the  appearance 
of  youth.  Her  eyes  had  in  them  a  contemptuous  kind- 
liness, but  her  small  mouth  had  cruel  lines  about  it. 

The  emperor  looked  to  be  little  more  than  a  boy, 
although  Bess  knew  him  to  be  nearer  thirty-five  than 
thirty.  He  was  slim,  slight,  and  short,  and  had  the 
face  of  a  monk  or  a  priest — the  ascetic  type.  His 
mouth  and  chin  were  not  lacking  in  strength;  but  his 


THE  SON  OF  HEAVEN  99 

gaze  was  aimless,  his  eyes  without  concentration.  He 
was  simply  dressed  in  a  gown  of  yellow  brocade, 
belted  tightly  about  a  waist,  of  the  smalmess  of  which, 
in  common  with  his  hands  and  feet,  he  was  quite 
proud.  Looking  keenly  for  the  signs  of  weakness 
she  sought,  Bess  discovered  that  his  forehead,  while 
high,  receded  as  it  neared  his  glossy  hair;  also  that 
his  hands  and  lips  had  an  odd  habit  of  twitching 
nervously. 

Wrenne  acted  as  interpreter,  and  Bess  was  greeted 
graciously.  She  formally  accepted  the  offer  of  the 
emperor,  and  was  requested  to  name  her  preference 
of  abiding-places  while  she  dwelt  within  the  "violet 
city." 

She  trembled  before  she  answered.  She  knew,  from 
stealthily  questioning  Wrenne  while  on  shipboard, 
that  the  Temple  of  the  Double-Dragon  was  a  small 
one,  erected  within  the  Gardens  of  the  Invisible  Deity; 
knew  also  that  a  small  pavilion,  the  Arbor  of  Buddha's 
Hand,  overlooked  the  temple  and  gave  access  to  it 
through  the  gardens.  Without  mentioning  specifically 
the  place  she  wanted,  she  described  the  pavilion  to 
Wrenne,  who  translated  her  remarks  to  their  majes- 
ties. The  Arbor  of  Buddha's  Hand  occurring  to 
them,  the  emperor  inquired  of  the  head  eunuch  as  to 
its  tenancy,  and  was  answered  that  it  was  closed.  It 


100   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

was  ordered  to  be  opened,  refurnished,  and  heated, 
being  made  in  all  ways  ready  for  the  portrait-painter. 

The  emperor  rose.  The  arbor,  he  informed  Bess, 
would  be  ready  the  next  morning.  He  begged  that 
at  that  time  she  take  possession  of  it,  and  at  eleven 
o'clock  be  ready  for  his  first  sitting.  He  would  come 
to  the  Arbor  for  his  sittings,  that  the  Sacred  Picture 
might  not  be  touched  unnecessarily  by  the  hands  of 
servants. 

The  empress  arose,  also.    The  audience  was  ended. 

"Go  back  to  the  legation,"  Wrenne  whispered.  "I 
shall  see  you  this  afternoon.  To-morrow  a  chair  will 
bring  you  here  and  a  cart  will  bring  your  belongings 
to-day M 

He  was  quickly  on  salute,  and  stepped  behind  the 
chair  of  the  emperor,  waiting  until  the  imperial  pair 
had  been  borne  away,  then  attaching  himself  to  Prince 
Chu'un,  who  had  sat  throughout  the  ceremony  on  the 
lower  steps  of  the  throne  in  company  with  several 
cousins  of  the  royal  house.  Bess,  recognizing  him, 
thanked  him  again  for  his  good  offices. 

The  prince  smiled,  disclaiming,  and  asked  if  she 
cared  to  inspect  the  palaces  of  the  imperial  city.  If 
so,  he  would  put  his  servants  at  her  disposal  and  ask 
the  court  ladies  to  accompany  her  as  escort.  But  the 


THE  SON  OF  HEAVEN  101 

excitement  of  the  morning  was  enough  for  the  girl, 
and  she  asked  that  he  repeat  his  offer  at  some  later 
period. 

He  went  away  with  Wrenne ;  and  the  eunuchs,  con- 
ducting her  to  her  chair,  Bess  was  taken  to  the  palace 
gates,  her  chair  changed  again,  and  carried  from  out 
of  the  imperial  city  back  to  the  American  legation. 
On  arriving  at  the  latter  place,  her  first  act  was  to 
send  the  servant  assigned  to  her  for  brandy,  and  of 
this  she  took  more  than  she  had  ever  permitted  her- 
self before.  Her  nerves  in  a  normal  state,  she  went 
down  to  lunch  with  the  American  minister's  wife  and 
family. 


CHAPTER  II 
CAPTAIN  KOMOTO  Is  PROMISED  THE  GOLDEN  KITE 

I  TO  UGICHI  and  he  whom  his  countrymen  called 
Gray  Fox  were  once  again  in  conference.  The 
room  in  which  they  sat  might  have  been  the 
same  as  the  last  meeting-place  in  furnishing  and 
general  appearance,  but  instead  of  overlooking  the 
yellow  Connecticut  Avenue  cars,  whirring  motors,  and 
fashionable  crowds  of  Washington's  thoroughfare,  it 
looked  out  on  the  inner  court  of  the  legation  in 
Peking.  Gray  Fox  was  again  in  the  costume  of  his 
country,  his  gray  kimono  embroidered  with  cranes, 
his  obi-sash  blood-colored.  His  feet  in  getas  were 
stretched  out  before  him,  and  he  contemplated  them 
without  expression. 

Ugichi,  in  the  frock  coat  grown  habitual  with  him 
outside  his  native  country,  was  smoking  a  cigarette 
and  watching  Kitsune-San.  The  Gray  Fox  had  not 
spoken  since  the  greetings  had  passed  between  them. 

"Is  thy  thesaurus  of  speech  depleted  that  thou 
grudgest  of  its  contents  to  me,  Samurai?"  asked 
Ugichi. 

102 


THE  GOLDEN  KITE  103 

Gray  Fox  looked  up. 

"I  have  seen  to  it  that  the  rifles,  the  ammunition, 
and  the  supplies  have  been  landed,"  he  said  slowly. 
"Not  fifteen  miles  from  Tongku,  there  is  a  cave  well 
known  to  the  opium-smugglers,  and  this  holds  the 
wherewithal  of  rebellion  against  Kwang-Hsu.  For 
these  expenses  Nippon  is  sorely  taxed.  Thou  didst 
propound  to  me  in  Washington  a  plan  by  which  the 
seven  thousand  eyes  of  Buddha  should  refund  Nippon 
— and  hast  thou  so  replenished  the  exchequer  of  the 
Son  of  Heaven?" 

"Truly  I  have  not,"  answered  Ugichi. 

"Thou  hast  not !  The  servant  of  the  emperor  would 
now  have  reasons." 

"By  Kappa!  thou  shalt  have  them,  gnawing  Gray 
Fox!"  The  Count  Ugichi  showed  a  spot  of  color  on 
either  sallow  cheek-bone.  His  voice  was  that  of  a  man 
wronged.  "Think  you,  now,  what  I  have  done.  Was 
it  not  I  who  months  ago,  in  Washington,  detected 
the  falsity  of  the  potrait-painter's  speech  when  she 
spoke  concerning  the  picture  of  the  exiled  son  of  the 
White  Banner?  Knew  I  not  then  that  she  lied,  and 
did  I  not  discover  where  lay  the  Manchu,  Li-Wung- 
Kih,  who  called  himself  Gordon  Lee?  He  became 
imbued  with  thy  cunning,  that  of  the  fox,  and  fled 
to  the  Bermuda  Islands;  but  forth  on  his  trail  went 


104   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

Yedo,  the  agent,  with  my  orders  to  take  from  him  the 
keys.  Yedo  returned.  He  had  killed  this  Gordon 
Lee  with  a  subtle  poison,  had  examined  his  clothing 
when  dead,  had  searched  among  his  properties  for 
the  keys  of  the  door  of  the  Double-Dragon.  Found 
he  them  ?  No !  Kappa  *  is  in  my  luck — and 

tli  f*n ' ' 

"Then  you  discovered  that  the  keys  were  in  the  pos- 
session of  the  portrait-painter  herself.  That  I  re- 
member. Recount  not  thy  own  craftiness,  Ito-san. 
Thou  art  very  cunning.  Proceed." 

"It  is  as  Gray  Fox  says.  She  had  the  keys,  wear- 
ing them  always  about  her  neck  upon  a  chain  that  was 
very  strong.  In  San  Francisco  did  not  our  cleverest 
agents  brush  again  her  in  crowds,  provoke  small  riots, 
do  all  that  might  give  a  chance  for  the  keys  to  be 
snatched.  But  how  fortunate  they?  One  is  in  their 
jail,  another  in  their  hospital.  She  hath  in  Hamilton 
Wrenne  a  protector — the  black-visaged  man  of  the 
great  secretness.  Knew  I  well  we  should  be  enemies, 
Samurai.  It  is  so." 

"What  further  attempts?" 

"As  much  as  any  man,  even  as  much  as  thee,  the 
wise  and  most  machinating  furu  danuki.-\  On 

*  The  demon  of  hell. 
fOld  fox. 


THE  GOLDEN  KITE  105 

the  steamship  I  had  agents  among  the  ship-boys, 
all  of  whom  attempted  and  failed.  She  wears  the 
keys  next  her  skin  and  over  them  a  close,  very  tight- 
fitting  jersey  high  in  the  neck.  Once  I  had  nearly 
won.  By  great  secrecy  and  caution  that  same  agent, 
Yedo,  serving  as  a  ship-boy,  had  entered  her  cabin 
late  in  the  night;  had  with  his  knife  slit  open  the 
night-dress  that  she  wore,  only  to  find  naught  save 
bare  skin — for  she  wore  the  jersey  not  at  night,  nor 
the  keys  about  her  neck.  He  searched  most  secretly 
among  her  bags  and  boxes,  finding  nothing,  and  was 
interrupted  in  the  task  by  her  awakening.  Ever  after- 
ward a  soldier  of  Prince  Chu'un  slept  outside  her 
door — what  chance,  then?" 

"Bribery!" 

"  'Twas  tried,  and  failed.  To  his  master  Prince 
Chu'un  the  soldier  told  the  tale,  and  my  Yedo  was 
landed  at  Honolulu  ironed  and  manacled  as  a  criminal. 
He  is  also  of  the  Samurai,  this  Yedo-san. 

The  Gray  Fox  nodded.     "And  further?" 

"Her  room  was  entered  while  she  slept,  in  the 
Astor  Hotel,  in  Shanghai.  Again  naught  was  found, 
naught  worn.  The  keys  are  no  longer  in  her  posses- 
sion, Gray  Fox.  She  hath  given  them  to  this  Hamil- 
ton Wrenne  to  keep  for  her.  They  have  been  en- 
closed in  a  sealed  silver  box  and  this  swung  upon  a 


106   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

chain  again — for  this  was  done  while  she  waited  in 
a  silversmith's  in  Shanghai  and  while  a  guard  of 
soldiers,  ordered  by  the  Taotai  as  her  escort,  waited 
without  the  shop.  The  sealed  silver  box  she  gave  to 
Black  Wrenne.  Samurai,  we  must  rid  us  of  this  in- 
cubus of  a  Wrenne.  His  presence  is  parlous  to  the 
cause  of  the  Son  of  Heaven.  Besides  the  keys,  much 
power  hath  he  with  Chu'un,  much  too  much,  Gray 
Fox." 

"But  thou  saidst " 

"Said  I  my  power  was  the  greater?  Yes,  I  re- 
member. Kwannon  grant  I  was  not  in  error.  Ijin- 
san*  hath  me  in  doubt.  Very  useful  he  hath 
been  in  my  plotting,  knowing,  as  he  doth,  the 
strength  of  all  the  armies  of  China,  and  those  liable 
to  defection.  But  his  work  is  done  now.  He  can 
help  me  no  more.  He  were  well  out  of  the  way." 

Gray  Fox  meditated.  "And  with  him  out  of  the 
way,  Ugichi,  it  might  be  that  the  keys " 

Count  Ito  grinned  in  his  meaningless  fashion.  "If 
he  is  then  to  see  the  black  Omi-angel,  why  not  in 
the  presence  of  faithful  Japanese  who  might  procure 
from  him  the  keys  to  the  door  of  the  Double-Dragon? 
Speak  I  wisely,  Gray  Fox?" 

They  eyed  one  another. 
*The  foreigner. 


THE  GOLDEN  KITE  107 

"Wisely,  indeed!"  said  Gray  Fox,  and  fell  to 
meditating  again.  Presently  he  raised  his  eyes. 

"It  is  for  the  emperor,  Ito-san.  What  is  one  man 
that  he  should  stand  in  the  way  of  the  emperor's 
desire?  We  have  originated  this  plan  to  put  Chu'un 
on  the  throne;  have  provided  the  brains,  the  money, 
the  rifles,  the  munitions  of  war — even  the  men,  in 
part.  Knowest  thou  that  between  Peking  and  Tien- 
tsin there  are  scattered  some  five  thousand  of  our 
race,  members  of  the  army  of  the  emperor?" 

Ito  nodded.  "Long  since  I  knew  that,  Gray  Fox. 
Also  do  I  remember  that  at  Shan-hai-kuan  among 
the  allied  garrisons  there  is  a  full  regiment  ready  to 
write  their  names  in  the  Bushi  Kanjo — and  as  thou 
hast  said:  Are  the  time,  the  money,  the  men,  and 
the  emperor's  desire  to  go  for  naught  because  one 
Black  Wrenne  opposeth  the  path?  Nay,  Samurai! 
Scruples  are  well  enough  for  a  robber  Eta  who  pilfers 
on  his  own  account — for  him  there  is  the  law.  For 
those  who  act  at  the  emperor's  wish  there  is  no  ques- 
tion of  law." 

"Light  of  the  Son  of  Heaven !"  murmured  Gray  Fox. 

He  reached  for  a  bell-rope,  pulling  it.  A  servant, 
answering,  was  told  to  fetch  Captain  Komoto,  who 
would  be  found  below.  A  surmise  as  to  Gray  Fox's 
purpose  lightened  the  eyes  of  Ito  Ugichi,  but  he  said 


108   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

nothing  of  it,  waiting  in  silence  until  a  Japanese  in 
the  blue  uniform  and  patent-leather  top-boots  of  the 
army  entered  and  saluted. 

"You  sent  for  me,  honorable  ones,"  he  murmured. 

"Komoto,  thou  knowest  a  certain  Ijin-san  holding 
rank  in  the  army  of  China— one  Wrenne,  whom  they 
call  the  Black!" 

Komoto  assented. 

"He  imperils  the  welfare  of  the  mikado,  Komoto- 
san  I" 

Komoto's  hand  went  to  his  sword-hilt. 

"  To  the  enemies  of  the  Son  of  Heaven,  what, 
Komoto-san?" 

"Let  those  of  the  Akuki  be  speedily  delivered  to 
the  maw  of  the  Red  Dragon !"  answered  Komoto  sym- 
bolically. 

"Takest  thou  service  under  the  Red  Dragon, 
Komoto-san?  Wilt  be  his  purveyor?" 

"For  the  glory  of  the  emperor — what  not?" 

"Let  the  golden  kite  be  writ  large  upon  thy  breast, 
son  of  the  Samurai !  Amadi  Butsu  guide  thy  steps  to 
paradise." 

Gray  Fox  discarded  the  sonorous  symbolic  syllables, 
becoming  suddenly  practical.  "Thou  hast  many  men 
that  thou  mayest  trust,  Komoto?" 


THE  GOLDEN  KITE  109 

"All  serve  the  emperor!"  answered  the  captain 
oracularly. 

"It  is  well.  Now  it  were  not  difficult  to  take  five 
of  these  men  and  attire  them  as  Chinese  coolies — to 
put  false  cues  upon  their  heads,  and  wadded  garments 
upon  their  persons." 

"It  were  not  difficult,  son  of  the  Daimio " 

Gray  Fox  raised  his  hand,  regarding  him  sternly. 
"The  days  of  Daimios  are  past.  There  is  but  one 
ruler — the  emperor !  Forgottest  thou,  Komoto  ?" 

The  officer  seemed  humbled.  "I  crave  pardon, 
Kitsune-san.*  It  were  difficult  to  me  to  forget, 
I  who  was  born  in  a  humble  shoji  very  near  the 
palace  of  thy  illustrious  father.  Again  I  crave  pardon." 

"Offend  not  again,  Captain  Komoto.  Touching  on 
the  matter  of  the  five  mock  Chinese.  You  said  it 
were  not  difficult?" 

Komoto  bowed. 

"Nor  would  it  be  difficult  if  these  five  mock  Chinese 
met  with  this  Black  Wrenne  in  the  purlieus  of  the 
Chinese  city,  whither  he  goes  each  night  to  inspect 
his  soldiers  keeping  guard  upon  the  walls?" 

Kimoto  bowed  again. 

"And  should  accident  occur  to  this  Black  Wrenne 
— should  he  tumble  from  a  wall  and  be  utterly  de- 

*  Mr.  Fox. 


110   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

molished,  there  could  be  no  harm  in  opening  his 
garments  and  finding  hung  about  his  neck  a  silver 
box  on  a  chain,  eh,  Komoto-san?" 

"There  could  be  no  harm,  Gray  Fox,"  echoed  the 
soldier. 

"Keep  thou  and  thy  five  mock  Chinese  sharp  watch, 
then,  for  his  fall!  And  when  thou  hast  the  silver 
box  bring  it  to  thy  unworthy  preceptor.  For  this 
watchfulness  of  thine,  thy  name  shall  be  recorded  in 
the  unwritten  book  of  noble  deeds.  Sayonara" 

The  officer  hesitated. 

"Were  it  better  for  the  emperor  that  this  Black 
Wrenne  fell  from  his  perch  this  night  or  a  later 

"The  emperor  liketh  ill  the  song  of  the  black  wren. 
This  is  a  bird  of  ill  favor  with  him.  Shall  the  em- 
peror's ears  be  longer  offended  than  his  servant  may 
compass?" 

"I  am  ashamed,  Gray  Fox !" 

"No  need  of  shame.  That  only  when  one  has 
failed.  And  should  the  light  shine  upon  a  deed  which 
thou  hast  committed  outside  the  laws  of  nations, 
wouldst  say  it  was  in  thy  emperor's  service,  Komoto- 
san?" 

The  captain  drew  himself  up  stiffly. 

"Hath  not  Komoto-san  private  revenges  that  he  may 


THE  GOLDEN  KITE  111 

wreak,  son  of  the  Daimio?  Hath  he  not  a  tongue 
to  cry  aloud  these  satiations  of  revenge?" 

Gray  Fox  gave  him  his  hand.  "Thou  shalt  yet  be 
read  in  the  Bushi  Kan  jo,  Komoto-san.  Thy  very  ex- 
cellent good  health.  Sayonara!" 

"Sayonara,  honorable  ones." 

He  saluted  and  went  out.  Gray  Fox  rubbed  his 
hands.  The  Count  Ito  Ugichi  grinned  in  his  mean- 
ingless way. 


CHAPTER  III 
IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  THE  INVISIBLE  DEITY 

THE  Arbor  of  Buddha's  hand  was  so  called  be- 
cause within  the  precincts  of  its  garden  grew 
numbers  of  trees  bearing  the  fruit  which  has 
for  name  the  religious  synonym — fruit  much  of  the 
same  variety  as  a  lemon  but  more  fragrant  and 
shaped  in  such  a  way  as  to  vaguely  resemble  a  hand. 
In  the  center  of  the  garden  was  a  lotus-covered  lake, 
on  the  edges  of  which  grew  quantities  of  asters  and 
peonies,  also  several  variations  of  the  orchid  family. 
Cedar-trees  flourished  there,  having  dwarfed  cypresses 
for  companions.  From  the  marble  terrace  of  the 
pavilion  Bess  could  note  the  Temple  of  the  Double- 
Dragon  rising  above  the  tops  of  the  cedars,  approached 
by  one  hundred  steps,  flanked  on  four  platforms  by 
small  outhouses  with  curving  crenellated  roofs.  The 
sight  was  an  obsession  with  her.  Many  times  she 
found  herself  leaving  her  work  and  drifting  to  the 
terrace  to  gaze  at  the  temple  with  its  lacquered  columns 
112 


GARDEN  OF  THE  INVISIBLE  DEITY     113 

and  porticos,  and  the  great  golden  Double-Dragon 
sprawling  across  its  doors. 

Behind  the  temple  rose  a  great  wall,  ten  feet  in 
thickness,  gray-pink  in  hue,  and  this  same  wall  ex- 
tended on  all  four  sides  of  the  garden.  His  majesty 
gained  access  to  the  pavilion  through  the  imperial 
archway  on  the  south  side,  and  Hamilton  Wrenne 
came  through  the  little  door  on  the  north.  It  was  by 
a  special  dispensation  only  that  this  was  allowed,  for 
the  Arbor  of  Buddha's  Hand  flanked  the  ladies'  pre- 
cincts of  the  palaces,  to  which  no  male  was  supposed 
to  come  save  on  ceremonial  occasions. 

There  were  five  rooms  in  the  pavilion,  separated 
by  walls  of  carven  wood,  in  which  were  panels  of 
white  and  blue  silk  painted  with  poems  and  representa- 
tions of  cranes,  peacocks,  dwarfed  trees,  and  demons. 
The  entire  front  facing  the  Double-Dragon  Temple 
was  a  concatenation  of  plate-glass  windows  which 
might  be  released  and  swung  outward  by  pressing  in- 
genious catches.  The  lower  windows  were  provided 
with  blue  silken  curtains  that  rolled  into  graceful 
folds. 

In  the  front  room  Bess  had  set  up  her  easel  and 
canvas  and  arranged  her  painting  paraphernalia. 
Here,  also,  had  been  brought  one  of  the  great  red 
lacquer  thrones  on  which  the  emperor  sat  while  pos- 


114   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

ing.  Several  European  chairs  had  been  brought  in 
for  Bess'  comfort,  but  she  preferred  the  couch  built 
into  the  wall,  when  tired.  The  second  room  was  her 
boudoir,  the  third  her  sleeping-apartment,  the  fourth 
her  dining-room,  while  the  fifth  was  used  by  the 
servants  as  a  pantry,  the  cooking  being  done  in  a  little 
outhouse.  The  pavilion  was  heated  by  porcelain  stoves 
and  fires  built  under  the  floors. 

Nearly  two  weeks  had  passed  since  Bess  had  come 
to  live  within  the  violet  city,  and  during  that  time  she 
had  not  ventured  forth  from  beyond  the  high  red 
walls.  Every  morning  at  ten  Kwang-Hsu  came  for 
a  sitting  of  half  an  hour,  and  during  the  rest  of  the 
day  she  worked  over  what  she  had  blocked  in.  Some- 
times Na-Leng  or  some  of  the  ladies  of  the  court  came 
for  her  and  took  her  on  tours  of  inspection.  On 
several  occasions  she  witnessed  performances  of  the 
Royal  Players.  Three  times  she  had  lunched  with 
the  young  empress  and  her  maids  of  honor.  But  the 
days  were  mostly  taken  up  with  work  and  the  visits 
of  Hamilton  Wrenne,  who  came  every  afternoon 
through  the  small  gateway  at  the  north. . 

He  came  generally  at  sundown  and  remained  until 
the  Gardens  of  the  Invisible  Deity  were  hung  with 
the  black  wings  of  the  Night-Dragon  under  whose 
protection  fluttered  the  good  ancestor  spirits,  waving 


GARDEN  OF  THE  INVISIBLE  DEITY     115 

their  silver  lanterns- — she  recalled  the  picturesque 
simile  of  the  Lady  Na-Leng,  as  she  sat  there  this  night 
and  watched  Wrenne  in  the  starlight. 

She  had  begun  to  know  that  his  presence  was  neces- 
sary to  her,  and  without  his  visits  she  would  be  like 
the  little  nightingale  in  the  silver  cage  that  hung  by  the 
windows.  The  simile  called  to  mind  the  fact  that  the 
little  bird's  head  was  drooping,  his  feathers  ruffled. 
She  arose  and  opened  the  door  of  the  cage.  Gladly  he 
fled  into  the  night,  and  from  the  near-by  branch  of  a 
cedar-tree  poured  out  a  flood  of  song. 

"Hello!"  said  Wrenne.  "You  don't  seem  to  ap- 
preciate the  value  of  that  little  songster,  Bess." 

She  shook  her  head.  "Oh,  yes,  I  do.  But  the  poor 
thing  was  so  unhappy  when  I  first  got  him.  I  let  him 
out  twice  a  day.  He'll  always  come  back.  See!" 

She  stepped  on  the  terrace  and  whistled  softly,  coo- 
ingly.  She,  too,  was  in  the  starlight  now,  and  it 
touched  her  golden-brown  hair,  seeming  to  fondle  it 
The  stray  curls  at  ears  and  brow  and  neck  fluttered 
in  the  early  night  wind,  fluttered  against  that  pure, 
white  skin,  and  brought  the  tint  of  wild  roses  to  the 
cheeks.  The  nightingale's  song  ceased.  He  fluttered 
uncertainly  on  his  perch,  then  came  flying  back  and 
perched  on  the  dainty  finger  outstretched  toward  him. 
The  girl  stroked  its  feathers  and  bent  her  head  over, 


116   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

whispering  to  it.  Instinctively  it  rubbed  its  feathers 
against  her  soft  cheek. 

"Coo-oo,"  she  breathed  to  it  again.  It  turned  its 
wise  little  head,  surveying  her  with  attentive  eyes, 
then,  released  by  the  motion  of  her  hand,  flew  away 
again. 

She  turned  to  Wrenne.     "You  see?" 

He  saw  more  than  she  had  intended — the  brown 
eyes  soft  with  the  mystery  of  the  thoughts  of  night- 
fall, the  thoughts  that  her  conscious  mind  hardly  read. 
There  was  perfume  wafted  into  his  face,  perfume  he 
knew  to  be  of  the  garden,  but  sweet  in  the  thought 
that  it  was  no  sweeter  than  she. 

"Whispering  trees,  soft  summer  breeze, 
Moon  shining  bright  from  above " 

She  had  begun  to  hum  the  song,  hardly  remem- 
bering the  rest  of  it  which  dealt  with  lover's  arms 
and  other  accessories  of  a  divine  night.  It  was  a 
tribute  to  the  evening  that  nature  had  provided,  and 
to  the  man  himself,  in  that  he  provided  no  jarring 
element. 

But  he  had  not  forgotten  the  words  of  the  song,  if 
she  had.  There  was  color  in  his  cheeks,  too,  as  he 
came  forward,  nearly  touching  her.  She  was  subtly 
entrancing,  a  creature  for  the  evening  mists,  for  rose- 


GARDEN  OF  THE  INVISIBLE  DEITY     117 

gardens  and  mystic  moons.  Her  charm  was  as  perva- 
sive as  the  perfume  of  springtime,  as  delusive  as  a 
stray  moonbeam.  She  was  too  daintily  ethereal  for  the 
workaday  world  of  every-day.  Here  in  the  temple- 
grove  on  the  marble  terrace,  with  the  moon  and  stars 
silvering  the  night,  and  the  great,  mysterious  temple's 
gold  roofs  towering  beyond  the  cedar-trees,  she  was 
the  sprite  of  the  illusion,  the  key  to  the  picture. 

"Bess!" 

She  was  not  unconscious  of  his  meaning.  But  at 
the  time,  with  the  enchantment  of  the  good  ancestors' 
silver  lanterns  in  her  eyes,  she  thought  of  the  one 
word  spoken  with  the  infinite  tenderness  of  a  lover 
only  as  a  part  of  the  beautiful  night.  Looking  up 
and  finding  him  standing  so  close  to  her  that  she  could 
hear  the  beating  of  his  heart,  she  was  not  afraid,  only 
very  glad  that  her  soul  was  light,  that  it  was  a  glad 
world,  and  that  he  was  there. 

She  looked,  lingering  over  the  picture  of  him,  as 
he  stood  very  gallant  in  his  close-fitting  uniform  and 
boots,  with  the  crucifix-hilted  sword  catching  the 
light.  His  cap  was  off,  and  the  rays  ran  in  and  out 
the  waves  of  his  black  hair  and  lighted  up  those  in- 
tense eyes  below  the  heavy  brows.  He  was  at  once 
sinister,  debonair,  tender,  and  masterful;  perfectly 
groomed,  clean-limbed,  every  line  of  face  and  form 


118   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

betokening  breeding  and  strength — and  in  his  eyes  love 
for  her.  To  her  mind  came  vaguely  thoughts  of 
Bayards,  Rolands,  and  Olivers,  compelling  composites 
these:  commanders,  courtiers,  cavaliers.  Here  was 
such  another.  It  had  taken  generations  to  produce  the 
like  of  that  strong,  graceful  body  and  handsome  head. 

"Hamilton !"  she  breathed. 

"Bess,  you  do,  you  do  love  me,  don't  you,  Bess?" 

And  when  he  had  conquered,  he  was  a  boy  again, 
eager,  petulant,  winning,  awakening  also  the  mother 
spirit  in  her.  As  she  lay  in  his  arms  she  looked  up  into 
the  shining  eyes. 

"How  can  I  help  it,  Black  Wrenne  ?"  she  said,  with 
a  little,  helpless  laugh,  and  stroked  his  hair  with  gentle 
fingers.  He  was  hers  to  love,  to  mother,  to  obey. 
She  might  revel  in  his  strange  masculine  beauty  with 
the  thought  that  it  was  hers  alone. 

"And — oh,  enough,  dear,  enough!" 

It  was  a  little  later  when  she  had  freed  herself 
from  his  arms  and  caught  back  her  stray  curls  into 
prim  severity. 

"Enough?"  he  questioned,  hurt 

"Enough  now,  great  baby !" 

They  laughed  together,  two  children  for  the  time. 

"And  how  long  have  you  loved  me,  Bess,  dear?" 

"Always,  I  think,"  she  answered  him.     Really  she 


GARDEN  OF  THE  INVISIBLE  DEITY     119 

did  not  know.  The  thing  had  always  been  vague  with 
her,  an  influence  that  had  grown  and  grown  until  it 
had  overwhelmed  her  in  the  greatness  of  it. 

"Yes,  always,  I  think — ever  since  I  met  you  the 
second  time.  But  before  that — I  had  ideals — such  a 
man  as  you.  I  wanted  him  big" — she  was  enumerating 
on  her  slim  fingers,  after  the  fashion  of  a  schoolgirl 
— "big  and  brave  and  with  black  hair  and  black  eyes. 
Just  like  you,  Black  Wrenne.  Always  B's,  you  see: 
big  and  brave  and  black-haired  and  black-eyed.  And 
then  I  met  you  and  knew  I'd  been  thinking  about  you 
all  the  time." 

"Did  you?"  he  said,  enraptured. 

"But,  then — then  you  weren't  nice  to  me,  Black 
Wrenne!" 

Where  was  the  woman  of  the  world  in  this  little 
girl  who  talked  with  her  mouth  pursed  up  and  her 
eyes  upturned  to  the  stars? 

"Wasn't  I?"  he  said  disgustedly.  "What  a  brute 
I  must  have  been!" 

"Yes,  you  were,"  she  said,  and  she  was  the  woman 
again  as  she  spoke.  "And — and  I'll  tell  you  a  secret 
It  only  made  me  love  you  the  more  because  you  were 
a  brute  to  me,  Black  Wrenne.  That  was  the  woman 
who  adored  your  strength,  who  thought  it  better  to 
have  you  your  own  way  than  no  way  at  all.  But  the 


120   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

artist  in  me  called  for  better  things  from  you,  wanted 
you  to  love  me  for  the  better  part  of  me,  to  bring 
that  better  part — there's  little  enough  of  it — out  into 
the  sunlight  and  hide  the  other  part  in  the  shadows. 
But  you  didn't  do  that." 

"Don't,  Bess,"  he  pleaded.  "I  didn't  understand 
then.  At  first  it  was  the  purely  physical  man's  love 
for  the  purely  physical  woman.  And  I  hadn't  had 
the  training  to  make  me  very  scrupulous.  But — that 
day — I  saw  you — and  wanted  you  a  thousand  times 
more.  There  will  always  be  that  of  the  physical  love 
— that  is  a  part — but  besides  there  is  the  something  you 
gave  me  which  no  other  woman  did.  An  utter  disre- 
gard of  self,  a  desire  to  do  things  for  you,  to  make 
myself  spiritually  cleaner." 

Suddenly  she  realized  that  she  had  bared  her  heart 
for  the  knife-thrust.  She  had  begun  this  by  speaking 
of  her  better  part — she  had  begun  it.  Why  hadn't 
she  been  content  with  the  fact  that  he  loved  her,  with- 
out dragging  in  ethics,  introspection?  While  he  was 
trying  to  make  himself  better  for  her  sake,  she  was 
retrogressing.  It  became  unbearable,  the  thought  that 
he  should  ever  discover  that  she  had  come  to  Peking 
to  steal — and  that  was  why  she  had  come  and  what 
she  still  must  do. 

"Bess,  I've  been  a  better  sort  since  I  met  you.    For 


GARDEN  OF  THE  INVISIBLE  DEITY     121 

the  past  two  years  I've  been  grimy  with  plots  and 
counterplots,  lies  and  treachery,  false  smiles,  and  knife- 
thrusts  in  the  back — the  machinations  of  Orientalism. 
I  had  one  great  ambition — to  be  the  power  behind 
the  throne.  For  this  reason  I  have  cultivated  Prince 
Chu'un,  made  of  him  a  means  to  an  end.  And  now 
the  way  to  my  ambition  lies  open  ahead  of  me,  Bess. 
I  can  be  the  real  ruler  of  this  country  in  less  than 
a  year — the  real  ruler  of  the  greatest  country  on 
earth,  of  four  hundred  million  people.  Think,  Bess! 
I  can  be  that — through  Prince  Chu'un.  For  I  am 
Prince  Chu'un  in  the  will.  My  way  is  his  way — and 
the  time  is  at  hand." 

The  wild-rose  had  fled  from  her  checks,  the  night- 
ingale was  still.  Her  trembling  fingers  caught  the 
sleeve  of  his  coat. 

"Don't  tell  me,  Hamilton!" 

He  was  strong  and  big  in  the  moonlight,  with  his 
heavy,  frowning  brows  and  clean-cut  jaws.  The 
fingers  trembling  on  his  arm  felt  the  thrill  of  his 
hard,  vibrant  muscles.  She  was  suddenly  very  much 
afraid.  What  would  he  do  when  he  discovered  that 
he  had  set  up  a  false  idol  in  her?  Would  he  tear  her 
apart  with  those  strong,  brown  hands? 

"No,  maybe  I'd  better  not  tell  you.     Because  the 


122   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

path  to  my  ambition  is  a  highway  of  arson  and  blood- 
shed— a  shambles  of  the  innocents." 

He  caught  both  her  white,  trembling  hands  and 
kissed  their  palms. 

"Bess!"  His  voice  was  suddenly  exultant.  "I'm 
going  to  chuck  it  all  for  you,  dear — going  to  chuck  it 
all,  d'you  understand?  Because  I  want  you  to  feel 
that  you  can  respect  yourself  when  you  love  me. 
You've  taught  me  the  way  to  honesty  and  straight- 
dealing,  dear — the  other  is  hateful  to  me  now.  When 
you  finish  your  picture,  we'll  leave  Peking  together. 
And  then — then,  my  little  wife — eh?" 

He  was  laughing  boyishly. 

"All  mine,  all  of  you.  Those  glorious  eyes,  and 
those  beautiful  curls,  and  your  rose  of  a  mouth — and 
the  sweet,  pure  soul  of  you,  Bess,  dear!" 

She  lay  in  his  arms,  her  face  hot,  her  body  trembling ; 
but  there  was  a  pall  on  her  brain,  and  her  heart  was 
like  lead  within  her.  She  had  set  up  for  this  man 
an  ideal  of  herself,  and  he  had  believed  that  ideal  to 
be  what  she  represented  it,  had  loved  the  fictitious  Bess 
and  diverted  his  career  for  her. 

"The  road  to  honesty — to  straight-dealing." 

It  seemed  that  the  Fengshui  demon  on  the  wall 
panel  was  grinning  at  her  as  he  repeated  the  words. 
She  who  had  come  to  Peking  to  rob — she  had  taught 


GARDEN  OF  THE  INVISIBLE  DEITY     123 

him  that  road,  she  who  was  not  yet  a  thief  only  be- 
cause she  had  not  the  courage. 

"No,  Hamilton,"  she  moaned,  "no.  Don't  talk  to 
me  that  way.  I'm  unworthy  of  it,  Hamilton.  It 
was  only  because  I  loved  you  so  much  that  I  wanted 
to  have  you  believe  that.  But  don't  believe  that, 
Hamilton — because  some  day  you'll  find  out  it's 
not  so." 

But  he  only  laughed  and  stroked  the  stray  curls. 

"Don't,  dear  Black  Wrenne.  Don't  laugh  at  me. 
Indeed,  it  is  so.  Please  keep  on  loving  me  no  matter 
what  I  am — just  love  me  because  I'm  Bess,  just  be- 
cause I'm  this  girl  that  you  see — for  nothing  more 
except  that  and  that  I  love  you  very  dearly,  Black 
Wrenne." 

"I  shall  always  love  you,  dear,"  he  said,  and  bent 
his  head  over  her. 

"But  not  the  ideal,  Hamilton,  not  that.  Just  Bess. 
I'm  not  the  stuff  to  stand  the  furnace  of  idealism.  Just 
clay,  dear,  and  that's  all.  False  images  won't  stand 
the  test.  Don't  set  one  up  in  me,  Black  Wrenne." 

The  nightingale  was  singing  again.  His  notes 
brought  the  girl  to  crying  very  softly.  If  Black 
Wrenne  should  discover  what  she  had  come  to  do,  if 
he  should  find  that  she  had  stolen  like  a  common  thief 
— would  he  love  her  then?  Could  she  dare  to  hope 


124       DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

that  he  would?  Was  that  fair?  When  she  had 
dragged  him  up  to  a  great  love  with  the  picture  of 
a  woman  who  did  not  exist,  could  she  blame  him  if 
the  love  that  she  had  awakened  for  this  mythical  ideal 
turn  away  repulsed  from  the  woman  who  was.  No, 
he  could  not  be  blamed.  Therefore  he  must  never 
discover.  She  must  do  what  she  had  come  for.  The 
picture  of  her  two  dear  aunts  was  before  her  eyes. 
She  must  do  that — and  then  she  would  try  to  be  the 
sort  of  woman  he  imagined  her. 

"It  is  because  you  are  what  you  are  that  you  think 
so  little  of  yourself,"  he  said  gently. 

"No,"  she  murmured,  wiping  away  the  tears.  "No, 
Hamilton,  I'm  telling  you  the  truth — you  don't  believe 
me,  thank  God!  I  pray  Him  that  you  won't  find 
out!" 

There  was  a  fluttering  of  wings,  a  feeble  chirp,  and 
unconsciously  she  put  out  her  finger.  The  nightin- 
gale fastened  upon  it,  regarding  her  with  quick  move- 
ments of  his  graceful  head. 

"I'd  rather  believe  the  bird  than  you!" 

And  his  voice  was  very  tender. 


CHAPTER  IV 

ASSASSINS  WHO  SHOULD  BE  PURVEYORS  OF 
THE  POOR 

THE  great  bell  of  Kouan-Lo,  in  the  Tachung-sz* 
tower,  was  marking  the  hour  with  its  golden 
tongue,  a  mellifluous  clangor  that  had  in  it 
more  of  music  than  of  noise.    The  air  was  heavy  with 
the  odor  of  lotos  and  chu~sha-kih  from  the  barred 
palace  windows  of  the  violet  city  came  the  tinkle  of 
the  san-hien  *  and  the  lute,  while  nearer  the  gate  of 
the  Fung-Hoang  a  female  voice  trilled  out  a  song  of 
Kouei  to  the  gilded  dragons  of  the  green  roof-trees. 
It    was    a    very    glad    world,    thought    Hamilton 
Wrenne. 

He  had  come  down  the  causeway  unattended,  alone, 
and  on  foot,  reveling  in  the  beauty  of  the  night,  in- 
toxicated with  the  lingering  perfume  of  the  girl's 
presence,  and  like  one  in  a  very  beautiful  dream  who 
was  loath  to  wake  again, 
*  Guitar. 

125 


126   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

He  answered  the  salutations  of  the  gate  guards 
mechanically,  and  bestrode  the  white  horse  which  his 
orderly  held  for  him.  Touching  his  mount  lightly 
with  his  riding-crop,  he  was  off  through  the  Tartar 
city  on  his  night  inspection  of  the  wall-guards. 

There  was  very  little  thought  for  his  duty  to-night. 
Bess  loved  him !  He  said  that  over  many  times,  un- 
consciously humming  music  to  fit  the  words,  turning 
the  beauty  of  the  happening  and  of  the  night  into  the 
blank  verse  of  the  lover's  litany. 

She  loved  him !  He  was  surprised  how  little  other 
things  mattered — amazed  that  the  hazy  future  held 
no  fears  for  him  and  that  he  could  so  readily  abandon 
his  cherished  projects  because  they  were  incompatible 
with  his  thoughts  of  her.  Indeed,  he  was  letting  them 
go  without  regret,  finding  that  he  no  longer  cared 
for  what  might  detract  from  her  regard  for  him. 

As  he  told  her,  he  had  not  been  very  scrupulous. 
Since  he  quitted  West  Point,  an  embittered  youngster 
deprived  of  the  fulfillment  of  a  dream  that  had  been  his 
since  childhood,  he  had  imagined  the  world  a  very 
cold  place,  where  one  kept  warm  only  by  the  fierce- 
ness of  antagonism  to  others.  His  rise  in  the  Chinese 
service  had  been  one  of  those  curious  sequences  of 
circumstance  that  sometimes  occur  to  Europeans  in 
foreign  countries.  'Assigned  to  a  post  far  up-country, 


PURVEYORS  OF  THE  POOR  127 

he  had  found  himself  in  the  center  of  a  rebellion  with 
but  a  handful  of  troops  to  cope  with  it.  Alone,  he 
was  powerless.  By  enlisting  in  his  cause  the  scat- 
tered bands  of  brigands  and  outlaws,  he  had  relieved 
the  province  from  rebellion,  and  as  reward  turned 
over  the  rebels'  property  to  the  rapacious  crew  who 
had  assisted  him.  Bravery,  lack  of  scruples,  and  cal- 
culating cunning  had  brought  him  to  high  places. 
Now,  for  the  love  of  a  girl,  he  was  to  climb  down 
again  when  his  hands  were  closing  about  the  reins 
of  government.  He  would  be  an  ordinary  soldier  of 
fortune  again,  a  penniless  married  adventurer. 

But  married  to  Bess!     That  was  the  recompense. 

The  Manchu  orderly  Thsang  had  never  before  noted 
his  officer  in  so  uncritical  a  mood.  There  were  several 
grave  defections  of  duty  on  the  part  of  the  soldiers 
of  the  wall  that  went  quite  without  rebuke.  One 
soldier  had  forgotten  the  password,  another  had  taken 
too  much  sam-shni  and  was  close  to  being  drunken, 
another  in  saluting  brought  the  barrel  instead  of  the 
stock  of  his  rifle  to  ground.  Thsang  did  not  under- 
stand his  lack  of  interest  in  these  things,  so  apart  were 
they  from  his  drawing  of  the  character  of  the  envoy 
of  the  Black  Fir,  the  name  given  Wrenne  by  his 
soldiery  to  indicate  the  bird  of  black  plumage  which 
haunts  the  fir-tree  and  is  all-seeing,  writing  down  in 


128       DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

the  Book  of  Fate  the  misdeeds  of  the  Tsing-jin,*  and 
preparing  for  them  adequate  punishment.  Wrenne 
had  not  risen  to  his  height  without  having  earned  the 
reputation  of  a  disciplinarian  utterly  devoid  of  mercy. 

Now,  inspection  over,  he  stood  upon  the  great  walls 
peering  away  at  the  ghostly  temples  and  palaces  where 
the  dogs  of  Fo  kept  their  watch;  at  the  swinging 
lanterns,  the  illumined  kites,  the  pagodas,  the  riot  of 
color,  of  crenellated  roofings,  porcelain  gargoyles,  and 
lacquered  goblins.  Below,  the  tracks  of  the  railroad 
stretching  outside  the  curve  of  the  walls  seemed  like 
the  trail  of  the  fire-monster,  and  the  engine  itself  an 
unreal  dragon  puffing  fire  into  the  silver  night;  the 
bobbing  light  of  rickshaws,  carts,  and  pedestrians ;  only 
the  elves  and  sprites  of  the  marshes  making  merry 
in  a  fairy  city  of  the  night;  the  figures  of  the  soldiers 
those  of  giants  keeping  watch  on  the  enchanted  city, 
so  distorted  their  size  in  the  shadows. 

"Hei-song-che-tsoo !"  said  Thsang,  and  gently 
touched  his  colonel's  sleeve,  heavy  with  gold  braid. 
He  was  addressing  him  by  the  name  of  He  of  the 
Black  Fir,  a  nom  de  guerre  which  had  grown  into 
custom.  Wrenne  turned,  nodding  to  him  impatiently, 
his  eyes  wandering  back  again  to  the  scene  spread 
below  him. 

*  Tsing-jin — Chinese  name  for  themselves—Sons  of  the  Great 
Purity  reign. 


PURVEYORS  OF  THE  POOR  129 

Borne  faintly  upward  from  the  mandarin's  garden 
below  the  way  was  the  sound  of  the  lute  played  by 
a  master  hand,  and  the  voice  of  a  man  singing. 
Wrenne  recognized  the  words  of  the  sage  Lao-tseu. 

By  beauty  of  face  and  ravishing  form 
Come  thoughts  of  a  beautiful  soul. 
The  world  is  deceived  by  the  outwards  of  love 
But 

"Come,"  said  Hamilton  Wrenne  impatiently.  Lao- 
tseu  was  an  old  croaker,  even  though  a  sage.  Why 
had  this  pessimistic  occupant  of  the  mandarin's  garden 
chosen  to  disturb  his  beautiful  dream? 

Below,  he  mounted  his  horse,  which  shied  violently. 
From  the  dust  of  the  road  arose  a  black  something, 
that  flapped  its  wings  and  cawed  dismally.  Thsang's 
teeth  showed  in  the  half-light. 

"An  ill  omen,  illustrious  one,"  he  said.  "An  ill 
omen." 

"Not  for  me,"  responded  Wrenne,  with  a  laugh 
that  was  gay  enough  to  show  the  counsel  of  Lao-tseu 
to  be  of  no  effect.  "For,  look  you,  Thsang,  am  I 
not  the  envoy  of  the  Black  Fir  and  a  bird  of  raven 
plumage  myself?  How  know  you  that  the  bird  is  not 
the  soul  of  my  ancestor?" 

Thsang  made  a  wry  face.     "Not  so,  Black  One. 


130   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

For  it  was  an  evil  bird,  accursed  by  Gotama  to  feed 
upon  offal  and  the  carcasses  of  the  dead.  It  is  a  sign 
of  ill  omen — see,  it  flies  straight  along  our  path.  Its 
way  means  destruction,  Hei-song-che-tsoo.  Take  the 
road  of  Kang-ing-pien  to-night." 

"The  black  clerks  are  my  friends,  Thsang,"  laughed 
Wrenne  again,  and  touched  his  horse  lightly  with 
his  spur. 

The  two  made  a  medieval  picture  as  the  light  showed 
them  outlined  against  the  white  steps  of  a  temple — 
the  slender,  graceful,  black-avised  man  in  the  imperial 
yellow  uniform,  golden-frogged,  his  crucifix  sword 
suspended  from  a  jeweled  belt  by  a  golden  cord,  the 
peacock's  feather  of  his  mandarin's  hat  trailing  out 
behind  him — the  picture  of  a  goodly  man  on  a  goodly 
horse,  whose  whiteness  contrasted  with  Wrenn's  hair 
and  eyes ;  in  his  rear  the  Manchu,  also  in  the  imperial 
uniform,  belted  and  booted,  and  uprearing  his  six 
feet  three  inches  over  a  gray  mare.  And  so  they 
passed  out  of  the  light  of  the  thoroughfare  and  into 
the  street  of  the  Little  Purveyors  of  the  Poor.  It  was 
a  mean  alley  with  unclean  causeway,  where  were  the 
shops  patronized  by  coolies,  undertakers,  and  those  of 
the  lowest  orders.  It  was  an  unsavory  district  through 
which  to  pass,  but  Wrenne  knew  by  long  experience 


PURVEYORS  OF  THE  POOR  131 

that  it  was  a  rare  Tsing-jin  who  would  raise  arms 
against  one  in  the  uniform  of  the  Great  Pure  Kingdom. 
"Hiaiif"    called    Thsang    suddenly,    in    warning. 
"Spur  thy  horse,  illustrious  one!" 

Involuntarily  and  without  asking  reasons,  Wrenne's 
spurs  came  in  contact  with  his  horse's  flank,  and  the 
splendid  animal  upreared  itself  on  its  haunches,  stared 
with  dilated  eyes,  and  plunged  suddenly  forward.  Out 
of  the  darkness  of  the  street  came  grasping  hands 
that  caught  the  bridle,  and  were  near  to  taking  it  from 
Wrenne's  grasp.  Again  the  spurs  bit  into  the  white 
horse,  and  with  frightened  neighs  and  whinnies — for 
never  was  there  a  kinder  man  to  his  beast  than  Hamil- 
ton Wrenne — it  galloped  madly  along  the  rough 
street,  dragging  two  men  who  held  tightly  to  the 
bridle,  tearing  its  gums  until  it  champed  red  .foam. 
Wrenne's  hand  went  to  his  sword,  and  the  blade 
of  the  crucifix  glinted  out  of  the  darkness.  But  that 
same  moment  a  pair  of  yellow  hands  clutched  his 
neck  from  behind.  His  feet  slipped  from  the  stir- 
rups, and  he  went  over  backward.  The  owner  of  the 
yellow  hands  was  undermost,  and  it  was  he  whose 
head  struck  the  stones  of  the  street,  sending  him  into 
unconsciousness  and  releasing  his  grip.  Immediately 
Wrenne  was  on  his  feet,  his  eyes  peering  for  his  an- 
tagonists, his  sword  ready. 


132   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

They  came  soon  enough — the  two  who  had  caught 
the  reins,  and  who  had  released  them  with  the  slip- 
ping of  the  American  from  his  saddle.  There  was 
a  pink  puff,  a  little  gray  smoke,  a  sharp  staccato  of 
sound,  and  a  bullet  perilously  close  to  Wrenne's 
shoulder,  burning  it.  But  by  its  light  he  had  seen  his 
antagonist  and  his  sword  slashed  into  human  flesh, 
which  quivered  at  the  impact.  A  man  with  half-sev- 
ered neck  stumbled  on  his  face  into  the  roadway; 
another  leaped  into  Wrenne's  arms,  sending  the  cruci- 
fix sword  high  into  air. 

Wrenne  felt  a  sudden  strangling,  and  a  hotness 
overspread  his  skin.  His  antagonist's  arm  was  crooked 
about  his  neck  and  his  left  fist  was  pounding  the  pit  of 
his  stomach.  He  grew  curiously  sick  and  ill,  almost 
vomiting.  Remembrance  of  his  plight  came  in  his  vio- 
lent twist,  which  freed  him  and  sent  the  sword-point  in 
the  direction  of  this  foul  fighter.  Only  a  laugh  of 
derision  and  an  attack  from  the  back;  a  knee  in  the 
small ;  both  hands  about  the  gullet.  Wrenne  lashed 
out  viciously  with  his  spurred  heels,  and  the  grip  grew 
weaker.  The  laugh  changed  to  a  cry  of  pain.  He 
whirled  upon  his  antagonist,  his  sword  descending 
upon  his  unprotected  head,  splitting  it  cleanly  through. 
But  even  as  the  blood  spurted  about  the  blue  steel, 


PURVEYORS  OF  THE  POOR  133 

something  heavy  struck  the  back  of  the  American's 
head,  and  he  went  down  into  the  unclean  street. 

Immediately  someone  knelt  over  his  body,  and  a 
tiny  electric  torch  showed  a  gleam  as  the  kneeling  one 
tore  open  the  embroidered  collar  of  the  coat,  the  linen 
one  underneath,  the  cambric  shirt,  the  gauze  under- 
garment. In  the  light  of  the  torch  was  a  square,  silver 
box,  suspended  by  a  silver  chain  next  the  skin.  The 
searcher  could  not  find  the  catch.  He  pulled  at  it  with 
eager  fingers  until  the  blood  came  leaping  up  from  the 
white  skin,  where  the  links  of  the  chain  cut  it — then 
at  a  weak  place  they  snapped.  The  silver  box  was 
stowed  away  and  the  electric  torch  went  out. 

"Cooe-cooe !" 

The  ravisher  of  the  chain  whistled  shrilly.  The  man 
with  whom  Thsang  was  at  grips  suddenly  released 
himself,  and  fled  up  the  street  fleetly,  following  the  one 
who  had  dragged  Wrenne  from  his  horse,  who  had 
been  stunned,  and  who  had  come  to  life  again  in  time 
to  rifle  the  American  of  his  dearest  possession. 

Thsang,  weak  from  several  wounds,  kicked  the  body 
of  the  first  assailant  whom  he  had  killed,  and  followed 
swiftly  after  the  one  who  had  escaped.  But  remem- 
bering, he  halted,  struck  a  match,  and  lighted  a  torch 
which  he  carried  at  his  belt.  It  was  more  important 
•ihat  he  should  find  the  Black  One,  his  colonel.  And  he 


134   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

found  him  with  crushed  head  and  matted  hair,  his  neck 
bleeding  where  he  had  been  despoiled. 

Raging,  the  Manchu  sheathed  his  colonel's  sword, 
when  he  had  made  sure  that  the  other  two  assailants 
were  dead.  Then,  raising  Wrenne's  body  in  his  arms, 
he  staggered  along  the  street  of  the  Little  Purveyors 
to  the  Poor,  slipping  and  stumbling  among  the  refuse 
until  he  emerged  upon  the  street  of  the  legations.  The 
American  legation  was  close  by.  He  let  the  uncon- 
scious body  slip  to  its  feet,  while  he  knocked  upon  the 
gate  with  his  free  hand  and  slipped  back  in  the  pro- 
tection of  one  of  the  stone  dogs  of  Fo,  two  of  which 
guarded  the  gate. 

An  American  soldier,  on  guard,  swung  open  the 
gate,  and  eyed  the  bloody  figures  suspiciously.  Thsang, 
who  knew  pidgin-English,  addressed  him : 

"You  savy  my  Melican  mandalin  all-same — all-same 
you  call  Lenne " 

"Gwan,  Chink!"  growled  the  upholder  of  American 
militarism.  "Whatcher  giving  me,  anyhow  ?" 

And  Thsang,  very  weak  from  loss  of  blood,  lost 
his  bland  imperturbability,  screaming  insult  in  his  own 
language  at  the  soldier,  who  listened,  highly  amused. 

"You  no  savvy  'Melican  soldier — officer — take  look- 
see." 

The  American  peered  cautiously  from  behind  the 


PURVEYORS  OF  THE  POOR  135 

bars,  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  white  face,  lifeless, 
in  the  starlight.  Immediately  the  gate  clicked  open, 
and  the  American  and  Chinese  carried  the  body  within. 

"It's  Black  Wrenne." 

The  American  soldier  locked  the  gate  and  called 
shrilly  to  the  legation  servants : 

"Here,  you  boys,  make  qui-qui  now  damn'  pronto; 
you  hear.  Qui-qui." 

Sad  was  the  plight  of  Captain  Komoto  when  he,  by 
devious  ways,  at  last  crept  into  the  burrow  of  Kitsune- 
san.  He  was  in  dirty  Chinese  garments,  rent  and  torn 
and  stained  with  blood,  his  hands  lacerated,  his  finger- 
nails broken  to  the  quick.  The  back  of  his  head  was 
an  unlovely  plaster  of  sticky  hair;  he  carried  one  hand 
limp,  for  the  wrist  was  broken.  And  it  was  in  this 
condition  that  he  gained  access  to  the  cabinet  where 
Gray  Fox  and  Ito  Ugichi  sat  smoking  over  their 
hibachis,  and  awaiting  his  return. 

They  noted  the  plight  of  him  without  surprise. 
They  had  not  expected  that  their  object  be  attained 
without  serious  hurt  to  those  who  wished  to  compass 
it. 

Komoto  saluted  them. 

"The  gods  have  guarded  you,  Komoto,"  grinned 
Ugichi. 


136   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

"Little  guard,  Excellency,"  answered  the  soldier. 
"Little  guard.  I  am  a  mass  of  broken  bones  and  torn 
flesh ;  good  for  little  duty  for  a  month  of  moons.  He 
was  no  weakling,  Excellencies." 

"Had  he  been,  'twould  have  been  unnecessary  to  put 
upon  his  seeking  the  Captain  Komoto,"  returned  Gray 
Fox.  He  peered  at  the  soldier  with  ill-concealed  im- 
patience. "Has  Kwannon  been  thy  friend,  Komoto- 
san!" 

For  answer,  the  addressed  one  drew  from  within  his 
torn  garments  a  square  silver  box,  to  which  was 
attached  a  stained  and  broken  chain. 

"This  I  took  from  the  neck  of  the  Ijin-san,"  he 
replied,  without  emotion.  "The  chain  is  broken.  That 
I  could  not  avoid,  for  I  hasted." 

"For  this  a  kanjo,  Komoto,"  cried  Ugichi,  and  his 
eyes  sparkled.  "A  kanjo  for  thee,  Komoto.  The 
golden  kite  shall  be  written  upon  thy  breast,  illustrious 
son  of  thy  father." 

He  took  the  box  from  the  table,  repressing  his  eager- 
ness, and  turning  it  over  and  over  in  his  fingers.  He 
saw  no  opening,  fastening,  or  catch,  and  handed  it  to 
Gray  Fox. 

"Thou  arf  familiar  with  the  cunning  devices  of  the 
silversmiths,"  he  said.  "Do  thou  find  the  concealed 
spring !" 


PURVEYORS  OF  THE  POOR  157 

Kitsune  fondled  the  box  lovingly.  In  the  silence 
that  followed  he  sought  with  pressing  thumb  for  the 
spring,  finding  it  finally  as  the  center  of  the  flower's 
petals.  It  flew  immediately  open. 

Ugichi  and  Komoto  stood  tense,  watching  him  as  he 
gazed  at  the  open  box.  They  saw  first  surprise,  then 
incredulity,  then  anger  as  he  hastily  felt  with  thumb 
pressed  against  the  interior.  Abruptly  he  threw  the 
box  upon  a  low  table,  and  arose  to  confront  the  two. 

"That  was  what  he  wore  about  his  neck — this  Black 
Wrenne !" 

Komoto  bowed  low.     "Yes,  Excellency." 

"You  have  done  well ;  go !" 

Komoto  went  out.  Ugichi  and  Kitsune  faced  each 
the  other. 

"Thou — the  cunning  and  the  subtle  one;  thou  on 
whose  information  two  soldiers  of  Japan  have  lost 
their  lives;  upon  which  I  have  builded  false  hopes — 
look  what  was  within  the  silver  box  that  hung  about 
the  neck  of  this  Ijin-san,  the  Black  Wrenne!" 

Count  Ito  Ugichi  picked  up  the  box,  and  saw  it  to 
be  but  a  frame  for  a  small  miniature  of  the  face  of 
Miss  Elizabeth  Courtney,  whose  eyes  met  his  as  he 
gazed  at  the  painted  reflection. 


CHAPTER  V 
A  QUESTION  OF  ETHICAL  RIGHT — AND  WRONG 

BESS  was  never  to  know  that  her  gift  to  Hamil- 
ton Wrenne  had  been  the  cause  of  the  attack 
made  upon  him.  It  was  true,  as  Ito  Ugichi 
had  said,  that  while  in  Shanghai  she  had  the  keys  to 
the  Dragon  door  enclosed  in  a  silver  box,  and  swung 
by  a  chain ;  true,  also,  that  she  had  given  such  another 
silver  box  to  Wrenne,  but  without  thought  of  exposing 
him  to  danger.  She  had  admired  the  workmanship  of 
the  key-box,  and  had  sent  a  messenger  to  the  silver- 
smith's to  have  it  duplicated.  Wrenne  had  for  a  long 
time-  begged  for  a  portrait  of  herself,  and  in  odd 
moments  aboard  ship  she  had  painted  a  miniature. 
This  she  fastened  within  the  silver  box  and  in  the 
dining-room  of  the  Hotel  Astor,  in  Shanghai,  had 
publicly  given  it  to  Wrenne.  And  so,  all  unwittingly, 
shethad  put  Ugichi  on  a  false  scent. 

She  was  further  unaware  of  the  fact  that  any  knew 
of  her  possession  of  the  Double-Dragon  keys,  save 
only  her  brother  Austin.  There  had  been  no  hint  of 

138 


ETHICAL  RIGHT— AND  WRONG          139 

foul  play  in  the  death  of  Gordon  Lee — she  had  not 
given  the  matter  thought.  Lee  had  complained,  at 
their  last  meeting,  of  a  weakness  of  the  heart.  This 
she  naturally  imagined  had  brought  about  his  death. 
The  various  attempts  of  agents  to  secure  the  keys  she 
put  down  only  to  petty  thieves,  and  after  leaving 
Shanghai  she  had  carried  the  silver  box  in  a  chatelaine- 
bag  fastened  to  her  waist,  because  she  found  the  weight 
of  the  chain  was  leaving  a  mark  upon  her  neck. 

But,  although  she  did  not  know  herself  to  be  the 
innocent  cause,  she  was  aware  of  the  fact  that  the 
attack  upon  Wrenne  had  materially  changed  their 
plans.  In  the  solitude  of  the  night  after  Wrenne  left 
her,  she  had  finally  determined  not  to  use  the  Dragon 
keys — not  to  attempt  to  pilfer  the  diamonds  in  the 
temple.  She  knew  that  in  that  act  she  was  forgetting 
her  duty  to  her  aunts,  going  back  on  her  word ;  but  she 
loved  Wrenne  too  much  to  take  any  chances  of  losing 
that  love.  The  picture  was  to  be  finished  the  following 
week.  She  and  Wrenne  would  quit  Peking  together 
and  go  back  with  him  to  help  her.  She  would  always 
be  in  possession  of  enough  money  to  keep  her  aunts 
from  want — and  she  would  not  need  to  steal  for  them. 

It  was  after  his  leaving  her  that  night  and  too  happy 
to  sleep,  that  while  wandering  in  the  gardens  of  the 
Invisible  Deity  she  discovered  a  knot-hole  level 


140        DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

with  her  eyes  in  the  trunk  of  an  old  chu-sah-ki  tree. 
It  seemed  an  ideal  hiding  place  for  the  keys.  Probing 
within,  finding  it  less  than  a  foot  deep,  she  unf astened 
the  keys  from  the  chain  about  her  waist  and  dropped 
them  within. 

Her  plan  of  leaving  them  there  forever  might  very 
wefl  have  been  carried  out,  fresh  with  the  impulse  of 
the  moment;  her  decision  might  even  have  lasted  a 
week  while  the  first  ecstasy  of  love  endured.  How- 
ever, it  happened  that  Hamilton  Wrenne  lay  on  a  sick- 
bed for  more  than  a  month  battling  for  his  life,  con- 
cussion of  the  brain  having  developed  from  the  crash- 
ing blow  he  had  received. 

During  this  time  work  on  the  portrait  was  sus- 
pended, and  Bess  hovered  about  the  sick-room  in  the 
character  of  nurse,  wasting  herself  thin  in  her  anxiety 
for  the  man  she  loved  And  during  this  time  she 
reflected  over  the  situation,  and  decided  that,  after  all, 
it  would  be  wisest  to  take  the  diamonds.  When  Ham- 
ilton Wrenne  quitted  the  Chinese  sen-ice — what  then? 
It  might  be  that  for  the  time  it  would  be  necessary  for 
both  of  them  to  live  on  the  proceeds  of  Bess'  work, 
and  she  would  not  then  be  able  to  help  Aunt  Malvinia 
and  Aunt  Kitty  at  all.  And  Bess  did  not  want  to  be 
poor  again.  She  knew,  entirely  too  well,  that  condi- 
tion of  hardly  knowing  how  the  expenses  of  the  week 


ETHICAL  RIGHT— AND  WRONG          141 

were  to  be  managed.  Neither  would  it  do  to  have  her 
mother  and  her  little  sisters  (all  of  whom  were  almost 
dependent  upon  her)  brought  to  the  same  straits. 

Money  was  most  necessary,  and  it  was  dose  to 
hand. 

She  recalled  Austin's  sophistry  that  she  was  robbing 
no  one.  The  jewels  were  wasted  there  in  the  darkness. 
Only  tradition  kept  the  door  closed.  She  was  trying 
nothing  from  anyone  who  needed  it — who  would  miss 
it.  She  was  not  robbing  anyone  in  particular.  The 
gems  were  not  intended  to  be  used  even  for  display. 

So  the  fine  frenzy  of  her  moral  moment  wore  off  in 
consideration  of  the  practical  things  of  life.  There 
was  only  one  thing  to  be  considered.  Hamilton  most: 
not  know. 

During  his  illness  she  had  remained  at  the  Hotel 
de  1'Univers  in  the  Tartar  City  where  he  had  really 
acquired  rooms,  although  he  had  a  splendid  suite  in 
Prince  Chu'un's  yamen.  Now  that  he  was  well  again, 
she  must  return  to  the  Winter  Palace  and  fini'A  the 
portrait  The  first  morning  he  was  able  to  be  about, 
a  thin,  wan  shadow  of  himself,  she  said  good-by  for 
the  time,  and  returned  to  her  pavilion  in  the  Gardens 
of  die  Invisible  Deity.  An  audience  with  Kwang- 
Hsu  resulted  in  the  sittings  being  continued,  and, 
after  another  week,  during  which  she  caught  only 


142   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

hurried  glimpses  of  Wrenne  by  flying  visits  to  the 
hotel,  she  had  completed  the  portrait  to  the  satisfac- 
tion of  her  royal  patron.  Levee  was  held,  at  which 
Chinese  lords  and  ladies  said  many  polite  things  about 
her  work,  and  the  picture  was  taken  away  to  be 
framed. 

It  was  on  that  night  that  she  finally  made  her  resolve 
to  enter  the  temple  of  the  Double-Dragon  and  secure 
the  jewels. 

Meanwhile  she  knew  nothing  of  the  position  in 
which  Wrenne  had  been  placed  during  a  month's  lapse 
of  time.  Had  he,  in  pursuance  of  his  intention,  quitted 
Peking  at  the  end  of  the  week  he  had  set  for  himself, 
ostensibly  to  perfect  some  of  the  mechanism  of  the 
plan  to  seat  Chu'un  on  the  Great  Purity  throne,  he 
would  have  been  allowed  to  go  without  question.  But 
the  cogs  of  the  plot  had  been  revolving  during  his 
illness,  and  the  carrying  out  of  the  plan  was  being 
deferred  only  until  he  could  take  an  active  hand  in  it. 
Chu'un  had  so  long  been  a  puppet  that  he  was  at  a 
loss  to  decide,  or  give  instructions,  without  Wrenne's 
assistance  and  advice. 

And  so  it  was  that  on  the  same  night  that  Bess 
finally  decided  to  abjure  her  moral  principles  for  the 
sake  of  both  sentiment  and  practicality,  Black 


ETHICAL  RIGHT— AND  WRONG          143 

Wrenne  was  summoned  by  Prince  Chu'un  to  be  pres- 
ent at  the  final  meeting  of  the  heads  of  the  rebel  party. 

He  argued  the  question  with  himself  much  in  the 
same  way  that  Bess  had  done.  Just  as  it  had  been  in 
her  case,  his  rectitude  was  much  more  a  thing  of  the 
moment  than  of  endurance.  He  cared  none  the  less 
for  the  girl.  His  love,  had  it  been  put  to  the  test  of 
choosing  between  her  and  his  ambition,  would,  without 
doubt,  have  made  little  deliberation  over  the  matter, 
and  allowed  the  ambitious  projects  of  the  past  to  take 
the  wind's  way,  while  he  clung  to  the  girl. 

All  of  which  shows  that  all  save  certain  essential 
morals  are  for  the  most  part  inspired  by  the  moment, 
save  only  when  they  bring  about  the  question  of  hurt 
to  some  loved  one — which  latter  is  really  not  morality, 
only  a  certain  form  of  sentiment. 

It  is  difficult  to  condone  the  moral  obliquity  of  Bess 
and  of  Black  Wrenne,  but  excuse  is  found  in  the  fact 
that,  while  the  drama  of  their  lives  had  cast  them  to 
play  the  parts  of  hero  and  heroine,  they  still  remained 
most  indubitably  human.  And  in  the  workaday  world 
of  to-day,  where  ambitious  souls  strive  for  recog- 
nition, powrer,  and  the  luxuries,  it  is  not  easy  to  relin- 
quish opportunities  for  all  these  things,  where  only  a 
matter  of  ethics  is  concerned,  and  go  out  facing  pov- 


144   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

erty  and  obscurity  without  regrets  for  what  might 
have  been. 

Wrenne  was  not  altogether  selfish  in  his  delibera- 
tions on  the  matter  any  more  than  Bess  had  been.  Her 
transgression  of  the  moral  code  had  only  been  made 
justifiable  in  her  eyes  when  she  considered  the  un- 
happiness  that  would  be  brought  to  a  number  of  people 
by  puritanic  scruples.  Black  Wrenne  was  thinking  as 
much  of  his  sweetheart  as  of  himself.  He  had  no 
money  and  no  prospects  outside  China.  All  his  real 
life  had  been  spent  in  the  land  of  Tien-ha,  and  with 
cumulative  effect.  Remaining  behind,  he  became  a 
man  in  power — if  all  went  well.  Venturing  forth,  he 
was  again  only  an  obscure  adventurer.  And  as  an 
adventurer  with  only  his  sword  to  sell,  would  it  be 
possible  for  him  to  engage  in  any  foreign  service 
where  he  would  keep  that  sword  clean  ?  Morality  was 
not  expected  of  mercenaries — they  were  the  tools  of 
revolutionists,  princes  of  the  succession;  intriguers, 
diplomatic  agents.  He  went  away  to  China  to  face 
uncertainty  of  income  without  the  certainty  of  straight 
dealing. 

Thus  reasoning,  when  he  had  reduced  Prince 
Chu'un's  parchment  to  the  flimsiest  bits  of  rice  paper, 
which  he  flung  to  the  wind  of  mid-afternoon,  he  de- 
cided that  he  would  not  withdraw  from  the  plot  to 


ETHICAL  RIGHT— AND  WRONG          145 

seat  Chu'un  on  the  throne  of  his  fathers,  but  would 
take  the  reward  of  his  years  of  waiting. 

And  so,  on  just  such  another  beautiful  night  as  the 
one  when  they  had  forsworn  temptation  each  for  the 
other's  dear  sake,  when  in  the  light  of  the  good  an- 
cestors' lanterns  they  had  spoken  from  their  hearts, 
and  with  all  the  good  that  was  in  them— on  just  such 
another  night  as  that  both  had  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  beautiful  sentiment  and  spotless  love  were  for  the 
starlight  alone. 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  PAGODA  ON  THE  LAKE 

EAVING  the  water-front  of  Nagasaki  and  passing 
upwards  to  the  hills  beyond,  one  comes  by 
circuitous  and  tortuous  ways  to  a  garden  sur- 
rounded by  dwarfed  yews.  Should  the  passing  tourist 
wish  to  penetrate  the  mystery  of  this  garden,  he  will 
receive  no  assistance  from  the  'rickshaw  coolies,  for, 
in  their  queer  pidgin-English,  they  will  gesticulate  and 
point  wildly  to  a  number  of  erected  columns,  slim  and 
covered  with  tracery,  the  center  of  which  is  a  gro- 
tesque fox's  head. 

But  in  case  of  insistence  on  the  part  of  the  passing 
tourist,  he  may  pass  through  the  grove  and  find  him- 
self on  the  shore  of  a  circular  lake,  in  the  center  of 
which  is  an  islet.  A  pagoda-ed  temple  rises  from  the 
beach  of  the  islet ;  deserted  in  appearance,  even  with  a 
certain  sad  solemnity. 

One  may  descend  to  the  level  of  the  lake  by  means 
of  stone  steps.  There  is  a  single  sampan  to  be  found 
there  with  a  boatman  in  a  tight  uniform  of  green  and 
red  with  ideographs  embroidered  on  his  tunic.  He 

146 


THE  PAGODA  ON  THE  LAKE     147 

will  accept  no  dole  of  sen,  nor  does  a  great  round  yen, 
or  many  of  them,  attract  them.  He  will  push  off  his 
boat  from  the  shore,  making  elaborate  gestures  of  dis- 
sent, and  the  passing  tourist  returns  to  his  'rickshaw 
and  to  the  lower  town  or  goes  on  to  Moji,  grumbling. 
If,  while  dining  at  the  hotel,  he  asks  one  of  the  boys 
who  serve  him  concerning  the  mysterious  pagoda-ed 
temple  on  the  lake,  they  will  doubtless  give  him  the 
information  that  it  is  very,  very  holy,  not  to  be 
approached  by  inferior  groundlings  like  themselves 
and  there  is  an  intimation  that  seems  to  include  the 
passing  tourist  in  the  same  category.  Should  he  meet 
the  American  Consul  and  put  the  question,  that  gentle- 
man will  smile  and  give  him  practically  the  same  in- 
formation. Should  the  honorable  gentleman  forget 
to  do  this,  he  will  doubtless  have  nothing  but  time  to 
consider  his  indiscretion  and  some  inferior  port  in  one 
of  the  lesser  banna  republics  to  do  his  considering  in. 
It  was  therefore  with  some  surprise  that  several 
days  after  Kitsune-San's  disappointment  at  his  dis- 
covery of  what  Wrenne  had  carried  in  the  box  about 
his  neck  that  certain  'rickshaw  boys  noted  a  person  of 
no  distinction  disregarding  their  frantic  pointing  at  the 
traced  poles.  Alighting,  he  bade  them  in  flawless 
Nipponese,  to  wait  until  he  should  return  and  to  keep 
their  distance  meanwhile. 


148   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

To  all  appearance,  the  person  of  no  distinction  was 
also  a  foreigner.  Yet  the  Ijin-san  passed  to  the  shore, 
traced  something  in  air  for  the  benefit  of  the  boatman, 
who  gave  him  a  mighty  humble  genuflection  in  return, 
and  speedily  transported  him  to  the  islet. 

He  seemed  to  know  his  way,  disappearing  into  the 
temple  and  ascending  to  the  pagoda  whose  door  flew 
open  at  his  knock. 

The  room  he  entered  was  wide  and  lofty,  its  fur- 
nishing both  Oriental  and  European.  Rich  rugs, 
kakaenonos,  dragon-lanterns,  teak-wood  furniture, 
hand-painted  screens  in  delicate  Japanese  tones,  had 
for  companions  wall-maps  of  French  and  English  and 
German  origin,  a  huge  globe  into  which  numberless 
pins  with  vari-colored  heads  were  thrust,  a  shelf  of 
encyclopaedias  and  other  foreign  reference  works, 
telephone  and  telegraph  instruments  and  even  one  of 
the  newly  invented  wireless  outfits. 

At  a  huge  rosewood  desk,  supplied  with  a  number 
of  push-bottons,  sat  a  man  in  a  blue-gray  kimona  and 
a  red  obi-sash.  He  greeted  the  stranger  with  a  mere 
lifting  of  the  eyebrows.  His  hand  was  waved  cere- 
moniously to  a  seat  nearby.  The  stranger  put  down 
his  cockney-clerk  top  hat  and  stick.  After  bowing 
respectfully  he  was  permitted  to  draw  up  his  chair. 

"You  sent  for  me,  Daimios?"  he  said. 


THE  PAGODA  ON  THE  LAKE     149 

The  man  in  the  blue-gray  kimona  frowned  and  bent 
the  paper-cutter  with  which  he  had  been  toying  until 
it  snapped  in  his  hand. 

Tossing  the  broken  bits  of  ivory  away  he  turned  his 
chilly  eyes  full  upon  the  man  in  the  tightly  fitting  suit 
of  Austrian-made  clothes. 

"There  are  no  Daimios  nowadays,"  he  said  harshly. 
"You  will  gain  nothing  by  crude  flattery,  Sugiyama. 
You  will  observe  that  I  do  not  address  you  as  an 
equal." 

The  other  nodded. 

"You  will  remember  not  to  forget  that  you  are  a 
mongrel.  And  of  Eta  class.  You  are  offended  ?" 

Upon  the  visitor's  face  there  was  no  change  from 
his  usual  inconsequential  stare. 

"I  do  you  no  wrong,  Sugiyama,"  continued  the  man 
in  the  blue-gray  kimona — "and  for  that  reason  I  have 
made  most  minute  inquiry  into  your  history.  You 
are  the  son  of  a  Geisha  of  the  Golden  Kite  tea-house, 
who  married  a  foreign  sailor  of  low  degree  who 
was  killed  in  Yokohama  three  weeks  after  his  marriage 
in  a  foreign  gambling  house.  Your  mother  returned 
to  her  singing  and  dancing  and  so  continued  to  her 
death,  fifteen  years  later.  She  danced  and  sang  many 
times  before  the  Emperor." 

Both  bowed  profoundly. 


150   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

"A  most  estimable  woman  who  educated  her  son 
in  a  manner  befitting  one  of  higher  rank.  It  was  thus 
possible  for  you,  Sugiyama,  to  obtain  a  commission  in 
the  army,  for  rank  is  of  no  consideration  when  the 
Emperor  must  be  served.  Your  merit  none  will  deny. 
Your  courage  in  the  Russian  War  proved  a  fortunate 
accident  inducing  Hayashi  to  transfer  you  to  the  lower 
order  of  the  silent.  I  have  long  considered  you  as  one 
well  suited  to  do  those  dishonorable  deeds  a  Samurai 
may  not  stoop  to  do.  For  unless  I  much  mistake  you, 
Sugiyama,  you  have  no  desire  to  write  your  name  in 
the  Bushi-kanjo.  Your  service  is  that  of  a  mercenary. 
Although  your  rearing  is  Nipponese,  your  face  shows 
no  trace  of  your  mother,  only  of  your  father.  And 
that  he  was  a  person  of  no  nobility  of  character  that 
face  amply  proves.  I  doubt  that  your  heart  is  set  on 
aught  but  gain,  Sugiyama,  but  in  things  not  too  great 
__you " 

Sugiyama  had  taken  from  his  pocket  his  handker- 
chief and  was  slowly  and  carefully  pleating  it  in  the 
fashion  of  a  garment. 

"Ito  Ugichi  is  as  you  may  know — in  China.  You 
will  now  be  told  how  also  the  plan  he  has  laid  for 
gaining  certain  great  hidden  wealth  has  come  to  noth- 
ing through  the  foreigner,  Wrenne!" 

He  told  him  briefly  of  the  adventures  of  Captain 


THE  PAGODA  ON  THE  LAKE     151 

Komoto  in  his  attempt  to  gain  the  Golden  Kite.  He 
then  laid  stress  upon  Japan's  pressing  financial  need, 
her  customs  mortgaged  to  England,  her  debts  to 
America:  the  fact  that,  adequately  to  consummate 
their  Chinese  plans,  more  money  was  needed  than 
Japan  was  able  to  find.  He  then  continued : 

"We  had  originally  planned  that  the  Emperor 
should  be  made  away  with  during  the  revolt  that  was 
to  be  led  in  the  name  of  Chu'un.  Once  the  revolution 
was  an  assured  success — in  his  name — Ito  Ugichi  was 
to  secretly  make  away  with  Chu'un,  leaving  the  Re- 
formers without  any  leader.  Ito  Ugichi  was  then  to 
suggest  a  Nipponese  protectorate  during  the  time  that 
a  leader  was  chosen.  And  once  he  held  the  reins — it 
would  be  as  it  was  in  Korea  and  in  Manchuria." 

Both  men  permitted  themselves  a  smile. 

"Only  four  things  stand  in  our  way.  First,  lack  of 
money  to  pay  the  Germans  for  the  arms  and  munitions 
that  lay  in  the  great  arsenals  at  Wei'-Hai-Wei.  The 
second  is  this  man  Wrenne,  the  American  who  stands 
high  in  Reformer  Councils  and  who  has  steadily  op- 
posed any  suggestion  that  Kwang-Hsu  be  removed. 
But  he  must  die  if  we  are  to  triumph  in  China.  This 
Wrenne's  plan  is  that  Kwang-Hsu  be  deposed  after  the 
revolution  and  be  given  his  choice  between  being  kept  a 
prisoner  and  abdication.  He  is  our  third  obstacle — this 


152   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

weakling  Emperor.  The  aristocratic  Red  Girdle  and 
White  Banner  families  will  never  permit  his  abdication 
in  favor  of  Chu-tm  who  favors  the  foreigner.  Which 
he  will  surely  consent  to  do  now  that  he  has  been  sep- 
arated from  the  She-Devil.  So  he  must  die." 

"Separated?  Will  the  Honorable  One  explain?" 
For  the  first  time  Sugiyama's  passive  face  showed 
emotion ;  that  of  astonishment. 

"The  Dowager-Empress  separated  from  the  Em- 
peror? She  who  has  ruled  China  so  long  in  his 
name?" 

The  old  Samurai  nodded.  "It  is  indeed  astounding, 
Sugiyama.  But  Yuan-shi-Kai's  power  has  increased 
over  the  Emperor,  that  of  Tze-Hsi  has  declined.  And 
it  was  Yuan  himself  that  saw  to  her  banishment  to 
the  summer  palace  at  Wan-hou-San.  She  is  our  fourth 
obstacle.  There,  in  murderous  rage,  she  plans  with 
P'i-Hsias-li  for  her  restoration,  the  death  of  Kwang- 
hsu  and  Chu'un  too,  and  the  elevation  of  her  fourth 
nephew  to  the  position  of  Emperor." 

"Plots,  indeed,  Honorable  One,"  commented  Sugi- 
yama, his  ordinarily  dull  eyes  sparkling.  For  it  was 
in  such  an  atmosphere  that  he  was  at  his  best,  and  the 
old  Samurai  knew  it. 

"Aye,  plots  indeed — fires  smolder  in  Peking  as 
they  did  seven  years  since  when  the  Brothers  of  the 


THE  PAGODA  ON  THE  LAKE     15S 

Harmonious  Fists  fanned  their  flames  to  consume  all 
foreigners.  As  you  know,  the  Dowager  was  the  chief 
adviser,  and  money  from  the  Royal  Treasury  went  to 
pay  for  their  revolt.  The  scattered  remains  of  the 
Boxer  Brotherhood  are  now  drawing  close  again,  to 
serve  the  Barren  She- Wolf  in  the  elevation  of  Tuan. 
It  is  to  our  advantage  that  such  a  revolt  should  begin, 
and  you  are  to  aid  the  Dowager's  plans  wherever  and 
whenever  possible  and  endeavor  to  put  an  end  to  this 
dangerous  fellow,  Wrenne,  who  advises  the  Reformers 
not  to  make  away  with  the  Emperor.  The  Dowager's 
revolt  is  to  begin  with  the  assassination  of  the  Em- 
peror. Once  this  has  happened,  you,  with  your  inside 
information  will  betray  the  Dowager's  forces  to  the 
Reformers,  who  will  attend  to  their  wholesale  execu- 
tions. 

"Thus  the  Dowager's  hand  removes  the  Emperor 
and  the  Reformers  have  their  long  wished  for  excuse 
for  sending  the  bow-string  to  the  She-Wolf  and  her 
puppet,  Tuan.  Two  of  the  obstacles  to  Nipponese  su- 
premacy in  China  are  thus  removed  at  one  blow." 

"But  how  am  I,  Honorable,  to  become  party  to  their 
secret  plans?" 

"By  going  to  her,  Sugiyama,  as  the  secretary  and 
confidant  of  the  late  Li-Wung-Ki,  who  carried  away 
the  keys  to  The  Doors  of  the  Double-Dragon." 


154   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

Swiftly  the  old  Samurai  told  Sugiyama  the  tale  of 
Li,  his  flight  from  China,  his  life  in  the  Courtney 
home,  his  recognition  by  Chu'un,  of  his  death  and  the 
letter  that  left  the  girl  his  heir  and  the  guardian  of 
the  keys ;  of  the  failure  of  Captain  Komoto  to  capture 
what  he  had  believed  to  be  the  keys;  of  the  affair 
Jbetween  Bess  Courtney  and  Hamilton  Wrenne. 

'"And  so,"  he  finished,  "finally  Kitsune-san  admitting 
'himself  baffled  for  once,  sent  me  a  message  in  code 
calling  for  aid.  He  told  me  that  the  girl's  quarters  in 
the  Forbidden  City  have  been  many  times  searched. 
Unknown  to  her  she  had  been  skillfully  drugged  by  her 
own  attendants  to  whom  we  paid  a  great  price,  and  her 
person  was  searched  by  women  while  she  slept.  But  the 
Iceys  were  not  to  be  found.  Then  it  was  I  thought  of 
a  different  way.  Had  she  left  the  keys  in  America?" 

He  paused;  his  face  stern. 

"It  was  no  work  for  one  of  Samurai  blood,  so  I 
appointed  another  like  yourself,  Sugiyama.  One  of 
our  spies  in  Washington  employed  criminals  to  enter 
the  girl's  house  at  night.  But  still  the  keys  were  not 
found.  Almost  in  despair  I  wired  that  he  should 
inquire  as  to  the  girl's  kinsfolk  hoping  for  an  un- 
worthy one.  Such  a  one  was  found — her  brother.  He 
knew  of  the  great  treasure  and  was  angry  because  she 
would  not  share  it  with  him.  But  she  refused,  and 


THE  PAGODA  ON  THE  LAKE     155 

lest  he  steal  them  she  took  the  keys  with  her.  They 
are  in  China.  And  so  they  must  be  found.  There  is 
still  a  way.  And  it  is  a  way  that  will  at  once  rid  us 
of  the  two  remaining  obstacles.  The  keys  will  give 
us  the  treasure — the  money  we  so  sorely  need.  And 
it  will  rid  us  of  this  Black  Wrenne." 

Another  hour  was  consumed  before  Sugiyama  had 
been  told.  Then  he  arose : 

"The  woman  who  will  assist  you  you  will  know  by 
a  sign  that  I  will  now  give  you,"  said  the  old  Chief. 

He  had  opened  a  drawer  while  he  spoke  and  taken 
therefrom  a  small  sandal-wood  box.  Opening  this  he 
discovered  a  glittering  thing  that  flashed  as  it  lay  in 
the  palm  of  his  hand.  Sugiyama,  on  the  other's 
motion  to  inspect  it,  leaned  over  and  saw  it  to  be  a  bit 
of  jewelry  made  in  the  form  of  a  brooch,  with  some 
forty  small  diamonds  paved  upon  a  platinum  back  in 
the  form  of  a  parrot,  its  head  high,  its  tail  extended, 
and  two  chip  emeralds  for  eyes. 

"Wear  that,"  said  the  old  Chief,  "pinned  into  the 
corner  of  your  lower  lefthand  waistcoat  pocket;  and 
unless  a  man  who  addresses  you  as  a  brother  agent, 
whether  he  is  Japanese  or  not,  can  show  such  a  pin  in 
the  same  place,  have  no  converse  with  him.  These 
letters  .  .  ."he  handed  him  a  small  sheaf  of  them 
secured  with  a  rubber-band — "will  present  you  to 


156        DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

those  of  the  Dowager's  court  who  have  her  confidence. 
Is  there  more  that  I  can  say." 

With  a  low  genuflection  and  many  humilifics,  Sugi- 
yama  took  the  ornament  and  the  letters  and  went  back- 
wards from  the  room. 


BOOK  THE  THIRD 


CHAPTER  I 
THREE  GOLDEN  ARROWS 

AFD  so  at  last  we  come  to  the  night  of  Hoa-tchao 
— The  Birthday  of  a  Hundred  Flowers — the 
night  when  both  Wrenne  and  Bess  decided  they 
had  suffered  from  too  much  starlight.     There  were 
stars   enough   this   night   in   all   conscience   to   have 
lighted  every  city  in  China  and  that  without  the  aid 
of  the  spring  moon  that  sailed  a  serene  silver  censer, 
through  a  cloudless  sky. 

In  the  streets  of  the  Three  Cities  men  and  women  in 
gala  dress  called  upon  the  flower  goddess,  Kwan-Yin; 
flying  illumined  kites  the  shapes  of  the  lily  and  the  lotus, 
and  flinging  garlands  of  blooms  in  air.  Paper  lanterns 
— green,  red,  yellow,  multicolored — bobbed  about  in  a 
fashion  so  crowded  that  one  regarding  the  festival 
from  an  elevation  surmised  a  frolic  of  prismatic  glow- 
worms. The  air  was  redolent  of  apple  sprays  and 
orange-blossoms.  Out  of  the  uproar  one  caught  many 
indistinct  notes — the  tinkle  of  a  stringed  instrument, 
the  strain  of  a  song,  the  laugh  of  a  woman. 

159 


160   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

Peking  was  very  gay  and  future-careless  that  night. 

A  certain  mansion,  saw-tooth  walled  and  iron-gated, 
and  overlooking  the  Street  of  the  Maimed  Linnet, 
claimed  attention  through  its  lack  of  lights  and  fes- 
tivity. Maskers  passing  spoke  among  themselves  con- 
cerning it,  their  remarks  to  the  effect  that  the  mighty 
merchant,  Hao-Khieou,  was  absent  with  family  and 
servants,  matters  of  business  detaining  him  in  Tien- 
tsin. Else  there  would  have  been  mighty  rejoicing 
among  the  poor,  for  upon  such  festivals  Hao  was  wont 
to  throw  open  his  gates  and  have  spread  within  his 
gardens  a  feast  of  roasted  meats  and  candied  confec- 
tions ;  and  any  man,  even  the  veriest  coolie,  might  have 
his  fill,  blessing  the  spring-moon  and  Hao-Khieou  in 
the  same  greedy  breath.  Those  who  had  come  this 
night  so  hoping  went  away  with  the  gnawing  dis- 
appointment of  unfilled  stomachs,  but  with  no  word  of 
blame  for  Hao-Khieou.  For  the  poor  knew  him  as 
their  friend,  this  merchant  who  had  sacrificed  a  year's 
profits  to  feed  his  hungry  brethren  in  famine  time. 

It  was  true  enough  that  Hao-Khieou's  family  and 
servants  were  in  Tien-tsin.  But  behind  the  closed 
shutters  and  the  drawn  blinds,  lanterns  and  candles 
gleamed  in  the  concourse  hall  of  the  dark  house,  and 
Hao-Khieou  sat,  engaged  in  weighty  convention  with 
other  men  of  import.  The  soft  rugs  on  the  polished 


THREE  GOLDEN  ARROWS  161 

floors  were  the  seats  of  fifty  people  of  excellent  accom- 
plishment, bearing  names  reverenced  the  length  and 
breadth  of  the  Yellow  Kingdom — scholars  of  the  uni- 
versities who  had  attained  much  merit;  Manchu  gen- 
eralissimos ;  two  Tartar  princes,  brothers  of  the  blood ; 
many  Mongolian  mandarins;  the  viceroys  of  four 
provinces,  and  the  taotais  of  a  score  of  cities;  man- 
darins of  the  yellow  banner,  henchmen  of  the  royal 
house ;  mandarins  of  the  white  banner,  their  equals  in 
race,  only  little  inferior  in  power — these  the  thinkers, 
schemers,  controllers  of  cities,  provinces,  and  princi- 
palities. 

Lacking,  perhaps,  somewhat  of  the  brains  and  the 
power,  but  balancing  the  score  by  holding  the  strings 
of  the  money-bags,  were  the  grave  merchant  princes; 
and  of  these  Hao-Khieou  was  the  chief. 

Two  foreigners  completed  the  assembly.  The  first, 
Hamilton  Wrenne,  pale  after  his  illness,  but  very  mag- 
nificent in  his  imperial  vestments,  his  cloak  slashed 
with  imperial  yellow  silk,  thrown  over  one  shoulder, 
his  right  hand  resting  on  his  golden-hilted  sword.  He 
sat  on  the  right  of  Hao-Khieou.  The  other  foreigner, 
Ito  Ugichi,  on  his  left. 

There  had  been  much  speech-making,  much  adula- 
tive  rhetoric  in  speaking  of  one  another,  much  veiled 
simile  in  referring  to  their  reasons  for  being  present 


162   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

in  the  darkened  house  of  Hao-Khieou;  but  the  meta- 
phor was  dropping  away  as  the  climax  approached, 
and  now  they  spoke  almost  baldly. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  the  heads  of  the  party  had 
been  gathered  together  en  masse.  The  plan  had  been 
perfected  by  working  it  out  in  segments.  This  was  the 
work  of  Hamilton  Wrenne  and  the  Manchu  general, 
Tchin — for  Wrenne  the  planning  and  segregation,  for 
Tchin  the  confidence  gained  to  carry  on  the  work.  It 
had  been  to  bring  out  a  general  uprising  in  northern 
China  that  these  men  had  striven  to  make  the  upper 
provinces  theirs,  and  most  particularly  that  of  Cheh-li. 
With  the  majority  of  the  Manchus  on  their  side,  the 
subjugation  of  the  lower  provinces  would  not  be  diffi- 
cult. They  were  ever  slaves  under  the  yoke,  and  it 
would  be  no  great  task  to  compel  them  to  accept  as 
emperor  whoever  sat  upon  the  throne  in  Peking. 

According  to  the  Manchus,  there  was  no  rebellion 
in  what  they  intended  to  do.  Chu'un  was  Kwang- 
Hsu's  brother,  and  as  much  entitled  to  the  throne  as 
the  puppet  of  Tze-Hsi.  Neither  of  the  two  royal 
brothers  was  the  son  of  the  late  monarch,  but  merely 
a  nephew.  When  Hsien-Feng  died  at  Jehol,  his  son, 
Tung-Chih,  had  been  nominally  emperor,  with  Tze- 
Hsi,  his  mother,  as  regent.  But  Tung-Chih  had  died 
after  only  two  years'  actual  reign,  and  Hsien-Feng 


THREE  GOLDEN  ARROWS  163 

having  left  no  further  issue,  the  successor  was  chosen 
from  among  his  nephews.  Kwang-Hsu  was  chosen, 
his  enemies  stated,  because  he  was  the  weakest-willed 
of  the  royal  princes;  and  the  empress-dowager  had 
seen  in  him  one  through  whom  she  could  rule  abso- 
lutely, as  she  had  done. 

They  were  bitter  men  who  sat  in  the  house  of  Hao- 
Khieou ;  men  who  had  seen  their  country  the  despised 
of  all  nations  during  Tze-Hsi's  domination — defeated 
ignominously  by  Japan ;  saved  from  the  Taipings  only 
by  European  interventions;  helpless  before  the  mob 
rule  of  the  Boxers,  and  the  entrance  of  their  sacred 
city  by  heavy-handed  foreign  troops,  who  cast  down 
their  gods  and  profaned  their  most  reverenced  cus- 
toms. During  Tze-Hsi's  quasi-reign,  China  had  been 
made  a  mock  by  Japan,  bullied  by  Russia,  insulted  by 
the  Anglo-Saxon  races,  and  stolen  from  by  all  nations. 
It  was  a  sore  thing  this,  to  these  men  who  loved  the 
land  of  Tien-Ha. 

They  were  the  reformers;  nothing  more.  They  saw 
in  Prince  Chu'un  a  gentle-minded  prince  of  European 
education,  who  was  acceptable  to  the  people  because  of 
his  ancestry ;  and  to  them,  the  conspirators,  because  of 
his  foreign  training  and  his  desire  for  progression. 
They  would  have  little  active  interference  from  him. 
He  would  do  as  he  was  asked,  and  make  little  bother 


164   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

over  it.  All  he  desired  was  the  title  of  emperor  of  all 
the  Chinas.  But  with  his  accession,  the  monuments  of 
greed  and  imposition  which  had  endured  for  centuries 
would  go  tumbling  down ;  the  modern  methods  would 
be  adopted,  and  China  put  in  a  position  to  defend  her- 
self from  the  encroachments  of  foreign  foes. 

It  was  true  that  they  had  been  forced  to  seek  help 
from  Japan  in  order  to  carry  out  their  great  project. 
In  no  other  way  was  it  possible  for  them  to  obtain  the 
arms  and  ammunition  they  needed  for  their  work. 
Also  they  needed  the  assistance  of  some  regiments  of 
Japanese  soldiers,  in  order  to  inspire  their  own  fight- 
ers. Japan  was  necessary  to  them,  but  they  had  no 
intention  of  yielding  themselves  to  the  dictation  of  the 
pygmy  yellow  nation,  who,  in  their  secret  hearts,  they 
despised  as  mere  imitators. 

Yet  no  echo  of  these  sentiments  had  Ito  Ugichi 
heard.  Secret  as  he  was,  he  had  underrated  the  Chinese 
after  the  fashion  of  his  race.  Though  Japan  could 
work  and  wait,  China  could  work  harder  and  wait 
longer.  Though  Japan  had  a  great  secretness,  the 
secretness  of  China  was  vast;  and  these  nobles  and 
scholars  of  the  Yellow  Kingdom,  knowing  that  those 
of  Japan  had  imagined  themselves  China's  preceptors 
and  mentors,  allowed  the  fallacy  to  assume  proportions 
by  fanning  it  with  the  wind  of  words.  Ito  Ugichi, 


THREE  GOLDEN  ARROWS  165 

Gray  Fox,  and  others  who  served  the  mikado,  looked 
upon  the  anticipated  triumph  of  the  rebels  as  the  giving 
over  of  China  to  them.  The  rebels  themselves  saw  in 
it  nothing  for  Japan.  They  meant  to  promise  every- 
thing, to  give  as  little  as  possible. 

As  for  Hamilton  Wrenne,  the  only  European  in  the 
plot,  they  had  had  him  so  long  among  them  that  the 
color  of  his  skin  was  not  a  deterrent.  He  was  of  all 
the  most  necessary,  after  Chu'un,  a  reincarnation  of 
"Chinese  Gordon"  to  them.  He  it  was  who  was  able 
to  lead  Chinese  soldiers  to  victory — he  who  had  put 
down  brigandage  and  minor  rebellions  with  handfuls 
of  troops;  who  was  able  to  turn  a  thousand  coolies  into 
a  well-ordered  regiment  of  automatons  in  little  time; 
who  possessed  the  confidence  of  soldiers  and  officers 
alike,  and  whom  almost  every  man  in  the  army  would 
follow  unquestioningly  wherever  he  led. 

This  was  the  climax  of  over  two  years  of  burrowing 
under  the  imperial  edifice ;  this  night  when  the  Birth- 
day of  a  Hundred  Flowers  was  being  celebrated  in 
streets  and  palaces  alike ;  the  night  when  the  first  blow 
was  to  be  struck  for  Chu'un  and  progress. 

Prince  Chu'un  was  not  present  at  the  gathering.  It 
was  unwise  for  a  prince  of  the  blood  to  leave  the  violet 
city  at  night  and  journey  to  a  darkened  house  in  the 
"'artar  city.  The  empress-dowager  had  many  spies  in 


166   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

her  employ;  there  were  too  many  private  informers  in 
the  persons  of  palace  courtiers  and  retainers  who 
would  not  be  tardy  in  following  up  such  a  departure 
from  the  usual.  But  it  was  understood  that  Hamilton 
Wrenne  represented  the  prince  in  person,  and  it  was 
to  him  that  the  closing  address  of  Hao-Khieou  was 
made. 

"The  moment  is  at  hand,  Black  One,"  he  said,  as 
he  approached  the  culmination  of  his  peroration. 
"Outside  the  walls  of  the  Chinese  city  are  a  thousand 
soldiers  in  the  garb  of  coolies,  having  concealed  near- 
by arms  and  munitions  of  war.  These  men,  I  under- 
stand from  the  most  illustrious  Tchin,  though  scattered, 
are  but  waiting  the  signal  to  form  and  enter  the  city  by 
the  imperial  catacombs,  a  plan  of  which  has  been  fur- 
nished their  colonel  by  you,  procured  from  the  exalted 
brother  of  the  Son  of  Heaven.  Within  the  city  walls 
are  another  fifty  score,  scattered  through  these  two 
cities,  and  in  command  of  the  worthy  Yamachi,  of  the 
mikado's  service.  These,  too,  but  wait  the  signal.  The 
brothers  of  the  blood  in  the  service  of  the  Yellow 
Dragon — soldiers  whom  thou  hast  trained  thyself, 
envoy  of  the  Black  Fir — have  been  apprised  of  the 
situation,  and  they  also  wait  for  the  time  to  strike. 
They  are  upon  the  walls  of  all  three  cities ;  even  within 
the  imperial  palaces  themselves.  And  they  look  upon 


THREE  GOLDEN  ARROWS  167 

thee,  envoy  of  the  Black  Fir,  as  their  leader,  whose 
word  is  command.  They  will  be  faithful — you  have 
promised  that." 

"I  have  promised,  and  so  it  shall  be,"  answered 
Wrenne,  rising. 

There  was  a  subdued  sound  of  approving  voices. 

"Then" — and  Hao-Khieou  flung  his  hands  outward 
— "why  do  we  delay  when  all  is  ready?  Procrasti- 
nation is  like  strong  wine  to  drug  the  soul  of  action. 
To-night  close  upon  three  thousand  men,  trained  sol- 
diers, wait  the  commands  of  the  august  Chu'un.  The 
fires  lighted  at  Peking  will  spread  through  all  Cheh-li 
and  to-morrow  the  province  will  be  ours.  Hupeh  and 
Honan  are  promised;  all  others  will  follow.  And  to- 
night, when  the  whole  of  Tien-ha  is  drunk  with  the 
spirits  of  the  Birthday  of  a  Thousand  Flowers — to- 
night is  the  time  to  fling  to  the  wind  the  banner  of  re- 
volt— the  revolt  against  the  cruelty,  the  blood-lust,  the 
covetousness  of  the  hated  Tze-Hsi,  who,  though  she 
be  the  mother  of  a  thousand  emperors,  is  a  menace  to 
the  land  of  our  fathers.  If  China  is  to  be  preserved 
intact,  we  must  be  bound  by  other  chains  than  those  of 
fear  and  hatred.  And  so  I  say  to-night!" 

Again  the  hoarse  murmur  of  approval. 

"Before  my  humble  dwelling  was  honored  by  thy 
feet  across  the  threshold,  Black-plumed  One,  there  had 


168   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

been  agreed  among  us  that  to-night  there  should  go  up 
from  the  walls  of  the  violet  city  a  signal  of  revolt. 
Well  we  knew  that  Prince  Chu'un  was  undecided, 
waiting  thy  recovery.  We  knew  better  still  that  he 
flinches  at  the  thought  of  the  first  blow — but  to-night 
he  must  decide.  Go,  therefore,  to  him,  Black  Wrenne, 
taking  in  your  hand  these  arrows  of  the  night." 

He  gave  to  Wrenne  a  packet  containing  what  ap- 
peared to  be  three  rounded  sticks. 

"Tell  him  that  you  have  come  for  his  approval. 
That  close  upon  three  thousand  men  but  await  the 
rending  of  the  night  by  these  arrows  of  flame  to  arise 
up,  casting  down  the  old  regime  for  a  new.  Until  he 
has  spoken,  there  will  be  taken  no  action;  but  if  he 
permits  this  night  to  pass  without  the  blow  being 
struck,  he  will  hardly  chance  upon  a  better  one,  though 
he  wait  for  a  thousand  Siu-fantis.  Meanwhile  those 
among  us  will  go  forth  among  the  armed  men  who  are 
waiting,  inform  them  that  when  three  golden  arrows 
show  against  the  black  wings  of  the  night  angel  all 
will  enter  the  violet  city,  taking  the  forts  in  the  name 
of  Prince  Chu'un,  and  aiding  in  securing  the  persons 
of  the  weakling,  Kwang-Hsu,  and  his  aunt,  the  ac- 
cursed Tze-Hsi.  To  thee,  then,  is  given  the  command 
of  all  the  armies  of  the  new  order  of  things,  thou  who 
knowest  so  well  the  modern  battling  of  arms.  The 


THREE  GOLDEN  ARROWS  169 

night  is  thine,  Black  Wrenne — thine  and  the  prince's. 
Farewell.  We  await  his  decision.  If  he  hath  approval, 
loose,  then,  the  flaming  rockets,  and  to-morrow's  sun 
will  rise  upon  a  new  emperor  of  the  Chinas." 

All  were  upon  their  feet;  all  bowed  low  before 
Wrenne.  He,  a  trifle  dazed,  thrust  the  rockets  into  his 
sword-belt,  and  threw  his  cape  of  imperial  yellow  over 
his  shoulder.  As  he  neared  the  door  he  drew  his 
sword. 

"I  will  be  faithful,"  he  said,  following  the  form  of 
the  conspirators,  and  held  the  sword  in  salute. 

"I  will  succeed,"  he  added,  and  presented  the  sword 
at  point. 

"Or " 

And  this  time  the  sword-point  covered  his  heart. 
With  their  subdued  cheering,  he  shot  the  blade  into  its 
sheath,  turned,  and  went  swiftly  from  the  room. 


CHAPTER  II 
WITHIN  THE  DRAGON-GUARDED  TEMPLE 

IT  was  just  ten  o'clock  when  Bess  Courtney  pressed 
one  of  the  window-catches,  threw  open  the  win- 
dow, and  stepped  out  on  the  marble  pavilion  of 
the  Arbor  of  Buddha's  Hand.    The  little  Sevres  clock 
on  its  porcelain  bracket  was  chiming  out  the  last  stroke 
of  the  hour  as  she  closed  the  window  behind  her.   She 
faced  the  Gardens  of  the  Invisible  Deity,  a  trembling, 
wan-faced,  white-lipped  girl. 

There  was  a  flood  of  moonlight  on  the  lotus-covered 
lake,  on  the  temple's  golden  roofs,  on  the  hundred 
white  steps  leading  to  its  doors.  The  gray-pink  walls 
were  illumined  by  it,  the  cedars  and  cypresses  threw 
their  long,  languishing  shadows  across  the  beds  of 
asters  and  peonies.  As  Bess  descended  from  the  ter- 
race to  the  ground,  a  spray  of  white  blossoms  dropped 
from  a  shu-sha-kih  tree,  and  she  gave  a  little  cry  of 
fright,  shrinking  back  against  the  terrace.  Seeing  the 
cause  of  her  fright  in  the  creamy  blossoms,  she  forced 
a  smile,  and  crept,  a  little  gray-cloaked  sprite,  along 


THE  DRAGON-GUARDED  TEMPLE        171 

the  graveled  walks  skirting  the  lake,  and  coming  to 
the  foot  of  the  temple's  steps — a  short  journey  in 
itself,  but  to  her  interminable,  fraught  as  it  was  with 
fears  of  watchers  lurking  behind  trees  and  walls ;  even 
some  indefinite,  superstitious  dread  of  ghostly  wraiths 
of  Chinese  who  looked  to  resent  her  profanation  of 
sacred  things. 

At  the  foot  of  the  steps  she  hesitated,  crowding  close 
to  the  little  outbuilding,  her  feet  tapping  nervously  on 
the  marble  blocks.  After  all,  what  had  she  to  fear? 
The  temple  had  been  locked  for  many  years.  Back  in 
her  pavilion,  her  servants  had  retired  to  the  servitors' 
quarters  of  the  palaces.  The  gate  to  the  southern  arch- 
way, through  which  the  emperor  was  wont  to  enter, 
was  locked;  the  key  to  the  northern  one  was  in  the 
possession  of  Hamilton  Wrenne. 

Wrenne!  She  shuddered  at  the  thought  that  he 
might  enter  the  gardens.  But  no!  It  was  too  late! 
That  was  not  likely,  his  entrance. 

She  nerved  herself  to  the  ascent,  clutching  the  keys 
in  one  hand.  Tentatively  she  put  her  foot  on  the  first 
marble  step,  then  drew  it  back  quickly.  Almost  weep- 
ing with  shame  for  her  cowardice,  she  spurred  herself 
on  to  a  sudden  ascent  of  ten  steps  without  looking 
back.  But,  weak  and  hesitating,  her  eyes  were  no 
longer  to  be  kept  to  the  front,  but  went  around  with  a 


172        DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

sudden  turning  of  her  head.  She  paused,  stiff  with 
fright.  A  broad  black  bulk  lay  directly  back  of  her  on 
the  steps.  Her  eyes  dilated  when  she  remembered 
there  had  been  nothing  there  as  she  ascended.  Her 
horrified  gaze  had  espied  a  certain  human  shape  to  the 
black  thing. 

And,  as  she  realized,  she  laughed  hysterically. 
Afraid  of  her  shadow!  How  many  times  had  she 
heard  that  used  as  a  term  of  reproach  for  other 
women!  No  one  would  have  imagined  it  fitting  for 
Bess  Courtney.  Yet  that  had  been  what  had  frightened 
her — her  shadow ! 

The  impetus  of  her  laughter  carried  her  up  several 
score  steps.  Looking  back  cautiously,  she  saw  only  the 
gardens  white  in  the  moonlight;  the  lake  shining,  the 
lotus  resting  serenely  on  its  surface;  the  blossoms  of 
the  mandarin  oranges  waving  gently  in  a  spring 
breeze.  She  continued  her  ascent. 

Now  she  faced  the  iron  doors  of  the  temple  itself.  A 
very  terrifying  dragon  sprawled  across  them — a  two- 
headed,  green-scaled  thing  with  staring  eyes  of  clear 
jade.  Those  eyes  seemed  omnipresent  and  most  dia- 
bolically alive.  So  saturated  had  she  become  with 
Chinese  beliefs,  that  she  could  for  the  moment  imagine 
this  painted  presentment  to  be  animated  by  the  spirit 
of  some  dead  priest,  who  had  served  his  allotted  life- 


THE  DRAGON-GUARDED  TEMPLE        173 

time  as  a  tender  of  the  shrine.  The  dragon  appeared 
more  than  a  mere  symbol — more  a  very  real,  very  in- 
human protector  of  the  great  treasure  that  lay  behind 
the  entrance  it  guarded. 

She  was  forced  to  master  herself  again  before  she 
drew  up  her  hand  and  inserted  the  iron  key  in  the  door. 
She  turned  it  to  the  right  without  effect;  to  the  left 
with  the  same  result ;  and  imagined  the  jade  eyes  grin- 
ning at  her.  But  she  had  come  too  far  now  to  be 
bested  by  difficulties.  They  made  the  task  easier  for 
her,  taking  from  her  mind  the  weight  of  the  super- 
normal. She  knew  that  this  iron  key  must  fit  the 
door,  and  threw  the  hole  weight  of  her  body  against 
the  fingers  that  held  it.  It  turned  with  a  loud,  crawly 
screech,  very  akin  to  Bess'  remembrance  of  a  refrac-' 
tory  slate-pencil  scratching  against  a  slate.  But  the 
physical  revulsion  that  it  caused  saved  her  the  mental 
shock,  and,  pushing  her  right  shoulder  against  the 
door,  she  found  it  swinging  gently  backward. 

She  entered,  turning  on  the  pocket  electric  arc  with 
which  she  had  provided  herself  in  anticipation  before 
leaving  Washington.  It  showed  another  door,  and  the 
blood-chilling  spectacle  of  two  enormous  red  eyes  glar- 
ing into  hers.  Her  affright  was  so  intense  that  she 
made  neither  sound  nor  movement;  and  again  she  had 
the  privilege  of  laughing  at  her  fears. 


174   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

There  was  barely  space  enough  for  three  people  to 
stand  between  the  first  door  and  the  second  one.  Bess' 
arc  had  disclosed  the  second  to  be  of  burnished  cop- 
per, with  a  dragon  painted  across  it  with  red  pigments, 
its  eyes  four  enormous  rubies.  She  pushed  the  first 
door  shut,  and  unlocked  the  second  one  after  some 
difficulty,  revealing  a  third  shining  in  its  white  ex- 
terior ;  the  familiar  dragon  this  time  silver-scaled,  and 
with  diamond  eyes,  the  size  of  which  brought  the  girl 
to  sudden  realization  of  the  enormous  value  of  the 
treasure  she  was  seeking — these  diamonds  alone  would 
almost  cover  Austin's  defalcations. 

The  fourth  door  was  painted  yellow  and  had  a 
golden  dragon  with  topaz  eyes.  That  pushed  behind 
her,  she  stood  within  the  temple  itself,  the  dust  of  un- 
swept  years  in  her  nostrils;  a  coughing,  sneezing, 
frightened  girl  in  the  most  sacred  precinct  of  the  For- 
bidden City — The  Temple  of  the  Seven  Thousand 
Eyes  of  Buddha. 

With  the  dust  out'  of  her  eyes,  she  saw  that  she  was 
within  a  rotunda,  the  walls  of  which  were  composed 
of  intensely  yellow  tiles,  each  tile  forming  a  niche  for 
a  statue  of  the  squatting,  arm-folded  presentment  of 
Buddha.  The  images  seemed  uncountable.  She  saw 
them  rising  in  tiers  from  every  curve  of  the  rotunda, 
all  duplicates,  and  all  of  yellow  porcelain.  In  the  cen- 


THE  DRAGON-GUARDED  TEMPLE        175 

ter,  a  raised  throne  served  as  seat  for  a  great  golden 
Buddha — a  hundred  fold  augmentation  of  those  in  the 
niches.  When  the  girl's  light  fell  upon  the  huge 
image,  she  drew  back,  amazed. 

She  had  seen  many  of  these  Buddha  images,  but  this 
was  by  far  the  most  beautiful.  The  folds  of  the  gar- 
ments, the  shape  of  the  hands,  the  minute  accuracy  of 
face  and  figure,  even  the  formation  of  the  finger-nails, 
with  the  two  guards  to  each  hand — these  had  been 
executed  in  such  a  way  as  to  wring  envious  admiration 
from  her  artist's  soul.  Richly  wrought  vases  of  enamel 
at  the  Buddha's  feet  held  jeweled  flowers.  Tall  golden 
candlesticks  studded  with  pearls  and  rubies  were  on 
either  side  of  it.  The  upper  part  of  the  throne  was 
hung  with  a  frieze  of  red-and-gold-clothed  saints. 

Yet  for  all  the  exquisite  workmanship,  there  was  no 
semblance  of  life  in  the  face  of  the  golden  image. 
Bess,  not  understanding,  came  to  the  foot  of  the 
throne,  her  footsteps  attended  by  clouds  of  dust  from 
the  silken  rug  of  imperial  yellow  on  which  Buddha's 
priests  had  been  wont  to  kneel.  Observing  closely,  she 
saw  the  reason  for  the  lack  of  expression  in  the  face. 
The  golden  Buddha  was  blind. 

Then  it  was  that  she  turned  her  light  upon  the 
small  images  in  the  niches.  They,  too,  lacked  the  sem- 
blance of  eyes.  She  smiled  slightly  when  she  saw  how 


176   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

patiently  the  symbolic  term  had  been  carried  out.  All 
of  the  Buddhas  were  blind.  No  doubt  there  were 
three  thousand  five  hundred  of  them  to  represent  the 
seven  thousand  eyes,  spoken  of  in  the  metaphor.  The 
thing  appalled  Bess  with  the  thought  of  the  amount  of 
patience  necessary  to  carry  out  such  a  whim  of  fancy. 

It  was  now  for  her  to  find  the  eyes  of  all  these  sight- 
less Buddhas — the  treasure  that  had  haunted  her  for 
the  many  months  that  had  passed  since  Gordon  Lee 
gave  her  the  keys  to  the  Double-Dragon  doors.  She 
flashed  the  light  about,  but  saw  no  boxes  or  receptacles 
of  any  kind.  Momentarily  she  imagined  she  had  not 
seen  aright,  so  paced  the  entire  curve  of  the  rotunda. 
It  was  quite  true.  There  was  nothing  that  appeared  to 
contain  treasure  of  any  kind — only  the  tiled  walls,  with 
their  array  of  inperturbable  images  and  the  great 
throne  in  the  center. 

She  sat  down  heavily  on  the  lower  step  of  the 
throne.  No  doubt  the  jewels  were  hidden  in  some 
secret  room  which  required  a  knowledge  of  hidden 
springs.  Tears  came  into  her  eyes.  She  had  risked 
all,  sacrificed  scruples,  taken  chances  of  losing  Wrenne 
—for  this !  Her  clenched  hand  came  down  heavily  on 
the  step.  The  resultant  sound  caused  her  to  sit  sud- 
denly erect. 

It  had  been  hollow,  quite  hollow,  the  ring  of  her 


THE  DRAGON-GUARDED  TEMPLE        177 

hand  against  the  red  lacquer  of  the  throne.  She  sprang 
up.  Yes,  there  was  a  chance.  The  steps  of  the  throne 
projected  slightly  over  their  support.  She  reached 
down,  caught  the  edge,  pulled  it  upward,  and  drew 
back,  dazzled  at  the  lights  that  shone  in  her  eyes. 

There  lay  the  jewels  protected  from  prying  eyes, 
and  the  touch  of  desecrating  hands — at  Buddha's  feet, 
indeed.  For  each  step  was  but  a  box  within  which  the 
jewels  lay. 

She  threw  open  one  after  another.  They  were  shal- 
low, lengthy  boxes,  lined  with  imperial  yellow  silk,  the 
customary  dragon  ornamenting  it.  She  put  out  her 
hand,  touching  the  glorious  gems,  letting  them  slip 
through  her  fingers,  while  she  held  her  breath  at  the 
beauty  of  them — living  pieces  of  light  that  sparkled 
and  scintillated  before  her — blue  diamonds,  yellow 
diamonds,  white  diamonds.  And  this  wealth  lay  in 
touch  of  her  hands. 

When  she  came  out  of  her  gasping  stage,  she  acted 
swiftly.  A  silver-mesh  chatelaine-bag  hung  at  her 
waist — a  large  bag  which  she  had  found  useful  when 
she  went  shopping,  for  it  would  hold  pocketbook,  toilet 
requisites,  and  any  small  articles  she  might  purchase. 
She  unhooked  it  from  her  belt,  and  with  eager  hands 
scooped  up  the  gems  between  her  white  fingers,  cram- 
ming them  into  the  bag  until  it  was  barely  possible  to 


178       DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

close  it.  She  had  no  idea  of  the  value  of  the  wealth 
she  had  taken,  imagining  it  to  be,  perhaps,  double  the 
amount  that  Austin  needed  to  repay  her  aunts.  She 
did  not  realize  it  quadrupled  that  sum,  and  gave  a  large 
balance  besides. 

Now  that  she  had  actually  done  the  thing,  she  looked 
about  apprehensively,  with  the  haunted  gaze  of  the 
evil-doer.  She  closed  the  throne  steps,  and  went 
hastily  to  the  doors,  finding  some  difficulty  in 
shutting  and  locking  them  securely.  Finally  it  was 
done,  and  she  found  herself  without  the  temple  and 
making  frantic  efforts  to  close  the  last  door — the  iron 
one.  The  blood  rushed  to  her  head;  her  whole  body 
was  strained.  The  door  was  gradually  closing. 

She  paused  to  take  further  breath,  turning  as  she  did 
to  view  the  moon-lighted  gardens.  And  then  she  stood 
back,  wild-eyed,  numb,  choking  back  a  scream  in  her 
throat,  one  hand  extended  flat  against  the  green-scaled 
Double-Dragon. 

A  man  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  and  gazed  up- 
ward at  her. 


CHAPTER  III 
CLASH  OF  STEEL  IN  CANDLE-LIGHT 

WRENNE  left  the  house  of  Hao-Khieou  by  a 
rear  entrance,  a  door  in  the  garden  wall 
which  had  its  outlet  into  a  narrow  alley. 
He  wormed  himself  along  this,  close  to  the  wall,  until 
he  emerged  upon  the  street  of  the  Maimed  Linnet, 
where  his  orderly,  Thsang,  walked  two  horses  up  and 
down  the  causeway,  awaiting  the  return  of  his  master. 
The  varicolored  lanterns  bobbed  to  and  fro  in  the 
street,  but  the  sight  of  Thsang's  imperial  uniform, 
kept  an  open  space  always  before  him.  As  Wrenne 
joined  him,  a  pretty  sing-song  girl,  bedecked  with 
flowers  and  jewels,  and  leaning  from  a  palanquin 
borne  by  two  coolies,  flung  a  garland  of  asters  about 
his  neck,  and  invited  him  with  sparkling  eyes.  He 
doffed  his  plumed  mandarin  hat  in  mock  respect,  and 
the  girl,  catching  sight  of  the  peacock-plume,  shrank 
back  in  affright,  closing  the  curtains. 

As  he  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away  toward  the 
violet  city,   Wrenne  did  not  see  the  figure  of   Ito 

179 


180   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

Ugichi,  wrapped  in  a  heavy  cloak  of  tan  serge,  emerge 
from  the  same  alley,  and  stand  looking  after  the  two 
as  they  rode  down  the  street  of  the  Maimed  Linnet. 
In  the  shelter  of  a  compound  farther  up  this  same 
street,  Ugichi  got  upon  a  horse  also,  and  turned  its 
head  in  the  direction  Wrenne  had  taken.  By  pursuing 
divers  short  cuts  through  mean  streets  and  dark  alleys, 
he  came  to  the  imperial  city  gate  before  Wrenne  and 
his  orderly.  He  was  admitted  by  the  parchment  of 
Prince  Chu'un  which  he  carried  always  with  him, 
and  left  his  horse  to  be  cared  for  by  the  gate  soldiers 
while  he  went  his  way  toward  the  prince's  palace. 

Wrenne  arrived  at  the  gate  a  little  later,  and  the 
officer  of  the  guard  told  him  of  the  admittance  of  the 
stranger  who  bore  Prince  Chu'un  parchment.  It  had 
been  impossible  to  recognize  Ugichi.  His  cloak  muf- 
fled both  face  and  form,  and  the  officer  had  no  reason 
to  believe  him  other  than  Chinese,  for  the  greetings 
had  been  made  in  the  Mandarin  tongue.  Moreover, 
the  Japanese  count  had  fastened  to  his  head  a  cue, 
which  had  dangled  in  full  sight  from  under  the  man- 
darin's hat  that  he  wore. 

Wrenne,  not  thinking  of  the  Japanese,  dismissed  the 
matter,  and,  giving  over  his  horses  to  the  care  of 
Thsang,  with  instructions  to  remain  by  the  gate,  was 
about  to  be  on  his  way.  The  guard  officer — a  Manchu 


CLASH  OF  STEEL  IN  CANDLE-LIGHT    181 

from  near  Yinkow,  and  a  lieutenant  of  the  line — 
stopped  him  with  a  deprecatory  cough.  Wrenne 
turned.  The  Manchu  held  out  his  hand. 

"Chu'un  and  progress,"  he  whispered,  as  he  turned 
Wrenne's  wrist  so  that  the  palm  came  uppermost.  It 
was  the  agreed  sign  of  recognition  between  those  of 
the  conspiracy. 

"You?"  Wrenne  stepped  back  in  some  surprise. 
He  knew  the  man's  family  to  be  henchmen  of  the 
dowager's  father,  the  old  Manchu  general. 

"I,"  responded  the  officer  blandly.  "And  all  the 
men  of  my  gate,  Black-plumed  One."  He  paused,  then 
in  a  lower  tone :  "Is  it  to-night  that  we  may  expect  the 
three  golden  arrows?" 

Wrenne  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Patience  is  the 
heritage  of  those  that  achieve,"  he  answered  in  Con- 
fucian style.  "Success  is  the  reward  of  those  expectant 
and  watchful  always.  How  may  we  know?" 

"We  are  ready,"  stated  the  officer  briefly;  then, 
saluting,  stepped  back  and  allowed  Wrenne  to  pass. 

Wrenne  did  not  enter  the  yamen  of  Prince  Chu'un 
by  the  gateway  of  ceremony.  Most  Chinese  being 
plotters  and  conspirators,  few  houses  in  the  Celestial 
kingdom  are  built  without  secret  entrances  and  exits. 
It  was  through  one  of  these — a  gateway  sheltered  by  a 
"huge  acanthus-tree — that  Wrenne  entered  with  his 


182   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

private  key,  and  found  himself  in  Chu'un's  outer 
garden.  He  threaded  his  way  among  the  dwarfed 
trees  and  shrubs,  through  a  profusion  of  flowers.  The 
buildings  composing  the  Chu'un  yamen  were  very 
dark  and  quiet.  The  servants  and  retainers  were 
mostly  without  in  the  Tartar  city  celebrating  the 
Flower  Birthday.  Wrenne  opened  another  gateway 
in  an  inner  wall,  and,  passing  through  a  paved  court, 
ascended  a  flight  of  black  marble  steps  to  the  very 
private  quarters  of  the  prince.  He  passed  through  a 
lofty-ceilinged  rotunda,  and  knocked  upon  an  inner 
door.  A  eunuch  admitted  him. 

Remembering  the  officer's  tale  of  the  cloaked  per- 
son who  had  entered  with  a  passport  from  Chu'un, 
Wrenne  asked  the  eunuch  as  to  whether  the  prince 
had  had  visitors  that  evening.  The  eunuch  shook  his 
head. 

"None,  illustrious  and  powerful  servant  of  the  Son 
of  Heaven" — with  a  bow  only  a  little  less  subservient 
than  that  which  etiquette  demanded  for  royalty. 
"The  exalted  brother  of  the  Great  Purity  has  but  re- 
cently returned  from  the  Imperial  Theater,  where  the 
players  celebrate  the  Birthday  of  the  Thousand 
Flowers.  He  hath  commanded  that  none  save  thyself 
be  admitted  into  his  dread-compelling  presence." 

But  Wrenne  had  passed  far  down  the  corridor  be- 


CLASH  OF  STEEL  IN  CANDLE-LIGHT    183 

fore  the  eunuch  had  finished  his  sentence.  A  second 
door  and  a  second  eunuch,  a  third  door  and  the 
prince's  guard  of  soldiers,  a  fourth  door  and  his  own 
personal  servant ;  and  Wrenne  was  in  the  presence  of 
Chu'un,  who  reclined  on  a  couch  built  into  the  wall, 
eating  lazily  of  Chinese  sweets  from  a  little  tabouret 
at  his  side,  and  taking  occasional  whiffs  from  a 
cigarette. 

He  started  up  at  the  entrance  of  Wrenne,  dismissing 
the  sing-song  girls  who  had  been  amusing  him.  His 
servant  let  them  through  the  minor  door,  and  was 
himself  dismissed  by  a  wave  from  the  thin  yellow 
hand. 

"Eh,  my  black  Wrenne?"  Chu'un  asked  nervously, 
when  the  red-walled  room  held  only  their  two  per- 
sons. "Eh,  it  is  well?  Advise  me,  my  Wrenne.  I 
am  stilted  and  stupid  to-night.  The  hoofs  of  my  horse 
killed  a  cat  to-day — it  is  an  ill  omen.  Her  eyes  were 
reminders  of  someone  I  had  known.  Perhaps  a  dead 
relative.  You  laugh,  my  Wrenne;  you  think  me  ab- 
surd— nor  believe  that  the  spirits  of  ancestors  may 
be  within  the  bodies  of  animals."  He  smiled  patiently. 
"I  am  well  punished  for  mixing  with  my  Eastern 
temperament  a  Western  sense  of  humor.  Myself,  I 
believe  the  cat  was  near  related  to  me — therefore  is  its 


184   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

death  an  ill  omen.  The  humor  of  the  West  obtruding 
makes  a  mock  of  the  real  ego.  And  so — but — what 
of  the  meeting,  my  Wrenne?" 

His  hand  closed  over  his  aide-de-camp's  wrist. 

Wrenne  told  him  in  a  few  whispered  sentences,  and, 
finishing,  took  the  bundle  of  rockets  from  his  belt. 

"Three  golden  arrows  they  call  these.  They  are 
to  be  shot  upward  from  within  the  violet  city  as  a 
sign  that  the  rising  to-night  has  your  full  approval." 

He  looked  at  his  watch. 

"The  night  is  spending  itself,"  he  added. 

Chu'un  twisted  his  hands.  "Eh  —  my  Black 
Wrenne?  It  is  to-night,  eh?  Not  too  early — nor — 
but  I  do  not  know.  I  am  a  poor  figurehead — is  it  not 
so,  my  Wrenne?  With  only  you  to  advise  me — 
you  whom  I  know  to  be  a  friend.  You  I  trust.  And 
if  it  is  that  you  say  the  affair  shall  be  to-night,  then — 
I  give  you  my  permission  to  pierce  the  night  with 
your  golden  arrows — eh,  my  Wrenne?" 

He  laughed  nervously. 

Wrenne  arose.  "Within  half  an  hour  after  these 
arrows  go  upward  three  thousand  men  will  be  under 
arms.  In  less  than  an  hour  Peking  will  acknowledge 
for  its  emperor  only  the  Prince  Chu'un. 

"Enough !" 

Chu'un  was  trembling. 


CLASH  OF  STEEL  IN  CANDLE-LIGHT    185 

"I  go,  then,"  replied  Wrenne. 

He  paused  near  the  painted  screen  that  divided  the 
room. 

"To  bring  you  a  crown,  Exalted  One."  Then,  laugh- 
ing, was  gone. 

He  passed  through  several  doors  before  he  remem- 
bered that  he  had  left  the  bundle  of  rockets  behind, 
and  quickly  retraced  his  steps,  the  guards  at  the  doors 
paying  little  attention  to  him,  dozing  as  they  were, 
for  the  most  part,  in  their  seats.  Wrenne  had  a 
peculiarly  catlike  method  of  treading,  and  he  re-en- 
tered the  prince's  outer  chamber  without  noise,  and 
before  the  occupant  of  the  inner  room  realized  his 
presence. 

Chu'un's  chamber  was  divided  into  two  parts  by  a 
silk-paneled  screen  depicting  a  wonderful  forest  of 
cypress  and  cedar-trees,  in  the  center  of  which  the 
spires  and  roofs  of  a  fairy  city  showed.  It  was  the 
work  of  an  artist  of  the  last  century,  a  marvelous  bit 
of  white,  silver,  and  green.  One  of  the  panels  was  a 
sliding  one,  and  through  this  Wrenne  had  passed 
when  he  came  out,  shutting  it  behind  him.  He  put 
his  hand  to  it,  slid  it  back  with  his  customary  noise- 
lessness  and  the  key-panel  of  the  screen,  the  fairy  city, 
disappeared  from  view. 

In  its  place  Wrenne  had  the  view  of  the  red- walled 


186   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

inner  chamber,  a  yellow-robed  figure  face  downward 
on  the  floor ;  and  a  liquid  something  trickling  crimson 
on  the  white  marble  floor.  Over  it  stood  Ito  Ugichi 
cleaning  his  sword  very  carefully  with  a  square  of 
silk. 

His  mode  of  entrance  was  quite  well  known  to 
Wrenne,  but  for  the  moment  he  had  forgotten  it — 
a  trap-door  opening  from  under  a  rug  seemingly 
marble,  but  really  painted  teak-wood.  The  secret  way 
led  through  the  palace  along  a  narrow  flight  of  stairs, 
having  for  exit  the  lifting  up  of  the  floor  of  a  little 
summer-house  near  the  wall.  Wrenne  seldom  used 
the  entrance.  It  was  difficult  of  egress,  and  the  abode 
of  insects,  rats  and  reptiles.  He  noted  even  now  that 
Ugichi  was  covered  with  cobwebs. 

Very  slowly  Wrenne  realized  the  facts  in  the  case. 
It  was  quite  plain  that  Ugichi  had  killed  Prince 
Chu'un,  but  the  reasons  for  it  did  not  come  immedi- 
ately. The  shock  of  the  matter  was  too  great,  for 
Chu'un  had  grown  to  be  a  very  personal  friend 
of  Hamilton  Wrenne,  and  it  was  not  until  he  saw  the 
sprawling,  lifeless  body  of  the  prince  that  a  full  sense 
of  his  loss  came  to  him.  But  for  all  of  that  he  re- 
mained calm.  Reasons — what  reasons? 

And  then — quite  simply  they  presented  themselves 
to  him.  Ugichi  had  quitted  the  house  of  Hao-Khieou 


CLASH  OF  STEEL  IN  CANDLE-LIGHT    187 

just  after  he  had  left  it — had  known  Wrenne's  mis- 
sion. Entering  by  the  secret  way,  he  had  waited  until 
Chu'un  gave  his  consent  to  the  signal  of  revolt.  When 
Wrenne  had  gone,  he  had  eliminated  the  prince.  The 
revolt  would  go  on  in  the  name  of  Chu'un.  When  it 
was  too  late  for  the  leaders  to  quiet  their  troops,  it 
would  become  apparent  that  they  were  dethroning  one 
emperor  without  another  to  put  in  his  place.  It  would 
be  the  opportunity  for  a  Japanese  dictatorship.  Yes, 
it  was  quite  plain. 

The  reflections  and  waiting  had  hardly  consumed 
a  minute's  space.  Meanwhile  Ugichi  had  looked  up 
and  seen  the  frowning  black-browed  man,  his  cloak 
of  imperial  yellow  thrown  over  his  shoulder,  his  hand 
on  his  crucifix-hilted  sword.  In  the  eyes  of  the 
Japanese,  Wrenne  saw  something  more  of  reasons — 
saw  that  at  one  stroke  Ugichi  had  hoped  to  rid  him- 
self not  only  of  Chu'un,  but  of  himself,  Hamilton 
Wrenne.  No  one  had  seen  the  Japanese  enter  or 
depart.  Wrenne  would  have  quitted  the  chamber  the 
last  visitor;  and,  the  prince  found  dead  after  his 
leave-taking,  the  blame  of  his  murder  would  be 
Wrenne's  alone.  The  evidence  was  enough  to  damn 
him,  both  with  the  new  party  and  the  old.  It  took 
from  the  Japanese  the  last  danger  of  notable  oppo- 
sition. 


188   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

Ugichi  only  started  insolently  at  Wrenne.  He  said 
nothing.  He  knew  the  quick  brain  under  that  well- 
groomed  black  hair,  and  realized  by  Wrenne's  ex- 
pression that  his  intentions  were  perfectly  plain  to  his 
enemy.  But  he  only  smiled  in  his  meaningless  way. 
There  was  no  cowardice  in  the  make-up  of  the  Japa- 
nese— at  least  not  the  sort  that  made  him  fear  for  his 
life. 

He  had  two  revolvers  strapped  to  his  waist,  but 
he  knew  that  a  movement  toward  either  one  meant 
instant  death  at  the  hands  of  Wrenne.  The  Ameri- 
can was  far  more  proficient  in  the  use  of  firearms  than 
he.  He  could  draw  more  quickly,  and  aim  without 
raising  his  hand  above  his  hip.  Ugichi  knew  also  that 
Wrenne  had  no  wish  to  have  a  revolver  shot  arouse 
the  sleeping  soldiers  and  eunuchs  of  the  yam  en.  So 
he  continued  to  polish  the  blade  of  his  sword  with 
the  square  of  silk,  blowing  upon  it  and  rubbing  it  into 
a  satisfactory  glow. 

Wrenne  came  forward,  his  eyes  upon  Ugichi,  put 
one  hand  behind  him,  and  slid  the  panel  into  place. 
Then,  quite  as  the  Japanese  imagined  he  would  do, 
his  sword-hand  drew  the  thin  steel  whizzing  out  of 
its  sheath.  Bending  the  sword  by  pressing  the  point 
upon  the  marble  paving,  he  took  it  between  both 
gauntleted  hands,  and  curved  it  into  what  was  nearly 


CLASH  OF  STEEL  IN  CANDLE-LIGHT    189 

a  bow.  Apparently  satisfied,  he  allowed  it  to  resume 
its  natural  shape  again,  and  with  his  free  hand  un- 
loosened his  silken  cloak.  This  he  tossed  on  the 
couch. 

"You  wish  to  try  a  pass  of  the  sword  with  me?" 
asked  Ugichi  politely. 

Wrenne  said  very  quietly  that  he  did. 

"We  are  evenly  matched,"  resumed  Ito  Ugichi,  with 
suavity  unexcellable.  "You  are  a  famous  swordsman 
— and  I  am  a  quicker  man.  Is  it  necessary  that  we 
fight?" 

"I  don't  see  any  way  out  of  it,"  Wrenne  answered 
coldly.  "If  I  had  my  choice,  I  should  have  you  strung 
up  and  beaten  to  death  with  bamboos — after  the 
dowager's  favorite  practice.  I  never  imagined  such  a 
punishment  justifiable — until  now,  you  yellow  rat! 
It's  unfair  to  Prince  Chu'un  and  myself  to  kill  you 
honorably,  painlessly.  But  it's  got  to  be  done. 
There " 

He  lunged.  The  Japanese  parried  with  perfect  ease, 
and  flicked  a  piece  of  skin  from  Wrenne's  shoulder. 

"And  there!"  he  added,  still  grinning.  "Not  quite 
so  much  lacking  in  difficulty,  eh,  Meestaire  Black 
Wrenne." 

Sometimes  they  fought  in  the  light  and  sometimes 
in  the  shadows.  A  niche  in  the  red  walls  on  either 


190   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

side  held  two  candle  sprays,  with  yellow  tapers  gleam- 
ing out  of  their  golden  censers.  These  threw  their 
light  directly  across  the  center  of  the  room,  where 
lay  the  body  of  the  murdered  prince.  Wrenne  tried 
to  keep  within  the  circle  of  light.  He  had  been  but 
lately  a  convalescent,  and  knew  that  it  would  be  quite 
impossible  for  him  to  win  by  strength  and  endurance. 
He  must  have  light  in  order  to  watch  the  eyes  of  the 
Japanese,  and  to  give  himself  opportunity  to  execute 
a  very  cunning  trick  taught  him  by  a  former  brother 
officer,  who  had  been  a  famous  maitre-d'armes  in 
Rome  before  the  wanderlust  seized  him. 

But  Ugichi  seemed  to  be  intent  in  getting  him  away 
from  the  light. 

The  American  had,  save  for  his  first  hostile  lunge, 
been  entirely  on  the  defensive.  It  required  a  certain 
thrust  from  the  opponent  in  order  to  put  the  maitre 
trick  of  tierce  into  play ;  and  Black  Wrenne  left  his  re- 
venge in  abeyance  while  he  waited  for  Ugichi  to  make 
the  necessary  opening.  But  this  Ugichi  did  not  do.  He 
had  a  masterful  trick  o'  the  fence  himself,  un- 
hampered by  conventional  teachings  and  strikingly 
lacking  the  things  that  Wrenne  expected  him  to  do. 
His  thrusts  were,  for  the  most  part,  half-thrusts,  hav- 
ing as  complement  a  quick  withdrawal  and  a  turn 
of  the  wrist,  sending  his  antagonist's  sword  splay- 


CLASH  OF  STEEL  IN  CANDLE-LIGHT    191 

wise  and  Wrenne  several  steps  backward  for  each 
time  he  accomplished  the  turn. 

It  was  not  without  a  certain  admiration  for  Ito's 
skill  that  Wrenne  faced  him.  The  fires  lighted  in 
his  brain  by  the  death  of  Chu'un  and  the  trick  of 
the  Japanese  to  fasten  the  guilt  of  the  murder  upon 
him  died  out,  leaving  only  the  cold  ashes  of  desire 
for  adequate  recompense.  His  smile  matched  the  grin 
of  the  Japanese  in  its  utter  lack  of  meaning;  but  it 
was  a  smile  that  drove  away  the  curves  of  his  mouth 
and  made  them  abruptly  cruel.  His  black  eyes  seemed 
to  slumber  behind  his  half-drawn  lashes,  giving  the 
face  the  effect  of  a  pretending  feline  waiting  her 
chance  to  strike,  the  brows  forming  a  heavy  black 
line  across  the  forehead.  With  his  cloak  gone  and 
in  the  circle  of  light,  every  muscle  in  his  lithe  body 
showed  quivering  under  the  tight-fitting  uniform; 
and,  as  he  abandoned  the  defensive,  his  movements 
were  disconcerting  in  their  apparent  recklessness  of 
position. 

He  forced  upon  Ugichi  a  style  of  fence  to  which 
the  diplomat  must  either  conform  or  feel  Wrenne's 
sword-point.  The  tricks  upon  which  the  Japanese 
had  seemed  to  place  his  skill  were  dependent  on  the 
style  of  sword-play  necessitating  a  long  reach.  Black 
Wrenne,  abandoning  this,  came  closer  and  closer  with 


192   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

each  parry,  until  they  fought  with  their  swords  either 
high  in  air,  or  else  turning  like  keys  in  locks  as  they 
came  together  at  the  hilts.  And  then,  while  in  this 
manner  parrying,  Ugichi  gave  the  open  thrust  which 
Wrenne  had  so  much  desired.  Wrenne  played  his 
trick  with  a  sudden,  vicious  baring  of  teeth — but  with- 
out effect,  and  nearly  with  the  result  of  having  the 
blade  of  the  Japanese  pierce  his  shoulder. 

Wrenne  leaped  quickly  to  his  former  position,  and 
again  their  swords  met  one  another. 

"A  neat  play,"  commented  the  Japanese.  "But  I 
have  learned  it,  you  see,  mon  cher  Wrenne.  I  also 
have  fenced  in  Rome." 

Wrenne  was  considering  rapidly.  He  was  losing 
breath  and  strength,  and  it  was  quite  apparent  to  him 
that,  his  trick  exhausted,  he  was  no  better  swordsman 
than  the  Japanese.  Nor  did  he  wish  to  engage  in 
hand-grips,  for  he  know  Ugichi  to  be  proficient  in 
jiu-jitsu,  before  which  his  own  strength  would  have 
very  little  chance  of  holding  its  own.  The  Japanese 
was  a  traitor,  a  murderer — and  fair  play  was  out  of 
the  question  with  him. 

Again  they  came  closer,  and  again  their  swords 
shot  out  in  air.  In  that  moment,  with  the  points  to- 
ward the  ceiling,  Wrenne  did  a  bold  thing.  He  re- 
leased the  hilt  of  his  blade,  and  before  it  clattered  to 


CLASH  OF  STEEL  IN  CANDLE-LIGHT    193 

the  floor  he  fastened  one  hand  about  the  throat  of 
Ugichi,  caught  the  sword-wrist  of  the  Japanese  with 
the  other  hand,  and  kicked  him  viciously  on  the  lower 
leg.  The  Japanese  went  prone,  with  Wrenne  on  top 
of  him.  The  same  second  found  Wrenne  planting  a 
knee  in  Ugichi's  chest,  and  twisting  the  sword-wrist 
under  his  back.  Ugichi  lay  quite  powerless.  Wrenne's 
foot  was  planted  heavily  on  the  fingers  of  Ugichi's 
free  hand,  his  knee  held  the  Japanese  down  with 
sword-hand  under  him,  while  Wrenne's  two  hands 
choked  the  air  from  his  gullet.  He  wriggled  violently, 
pulling  the  sword  from  under  his  back.  One  of 
Wrenne's  hands  shot  out  and  tore  it  from  his  numbed 
grasp.  Without  pang  of  pity,  Wrenne  shortened  the 
blade  and  thrust  it  through  Ugichi's  throat.  The 
Japanese  raised  himself  on  his  hand  with  one  con- 
vulsive effort,  then  fell  back  quite  still.  Wrenne  felt 
his  heart,  and  arose  with  a  satisfied  smile. 


CHAPTER  IV 
SIGNALS  OF  CONSPIRACY 

FOR  some  time  after  he  had  killed  the  Japanese, 
Wrenne  remained  quite  still,  wondering  what 
he  should  do.  His  shoulders  bent,  his  head 
on  his  chest,  he  pondered  over  the  matter.  What, 
indeed,  was  best?  For  the  moment  the  fate  of  China 
was  entirely  in  his  hands.  He  had  but  to  loose  the 
rockets — but  what  then?  Now  that  he  saw  the  hand 
of  Japan  in  the  matter,  was  it  wise? 

Then  his  eyes  brightened,  and  he  regained  his  erect 
bearing.  He  would  go  to  Bess,  confess  to  her  that 
he  had  strayed  back  into  the  crooked  footpaths,  ask 
advice  of  her.  She  with  her  clear,  honest  eyes  must 
determine  for  him — he  would  watch  the  eyes  to  know 
what  she  thought.  And  he  would  do  as  they  bade 
him. 

He  pulled  away  the  rug,  lifted  the  trap-door,  and 
pitched  what  was  left  of  the  Japanese  head  first  down 
the  flight  of  steps.  Very  tenderly,  however,  he  car- 
ried the  body  of  Chu'un  down,  wrapped  in  the  golden 

194 


SIGNALS  FOR  CONSPIRACY  195 

coverlet  of  his  couch,  and  laid  him  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs.  Returning,  he  threw  the  rug  over  the  blood- 
stains, then  closed  the  trap-door,  and  passed  out  by 
the  usual  passage 

The  servants  and  the  guards  had  heard  nothing. 
The  eunuchs  blinked  sleepily  as  they  made  him 
obeisance.  He  went  his  way  rapidly  through  the 
Chu'un  gardens  to  the  wall  that  opened  into  the  im- 
perial palaces,  and  opened  the  secret  gate  with  the  key 
given  him  by  the  prince  long  before.  The  gate  closed 
behind,  and  he  was  in  the  Gardens  of  the  Invisible 
Deity. 

The  moon  was  very  bright,  limning  trees,  shrubs, 
and  buildings  in  lines  of  frosted  silver.  Lights  were 
out  in  the  pavilion  of  the  Arbor.  He  hesitated  as  to 
whether  he  should  enter  and  awaken  Bess.  She  had 
probably  retired.  For  all  her  troth  to  him,  he  felt  a 
delicacy  in  intruding  upon  her  at  this  hour.  But  he 
must  have  her  counsel — himself  he  could  not  decide. 

He  walked  the  length  of  the  gardens  while  he  medi- 
tated, and  came  to  the  foot  of  the  temple's  hundred 
steps,  which  shone  like  a  white  moon  ladder  above 
him.  Looking  up,  he  saw  something  that  sent,  despite 
his  courage,  a  cold  shiver  through  him.  One  cannot 
live  in  China  and  acquire  none  of  her  superstitions. 
The  door  of  the  Double-Dragon,  closed  these  ten 


196   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

years,  was  flung  open,  and  out  into  the  moonlight  had 
come  a  cloaked  figure. 

He  stared  upward.  Then,  the  figure  turning,  a  pale, 
white  face  was  abruptly  outlined  in  the  moonlight.  He 
had  no  suspicion  of  its  identity.  Only  knew  himself 
either  to  be  dreaming  or  in  the  presence  of  an  actual 
psychic  phenomenon.  Perhaps  an  omen — if  ever  man 
needed  advice  of  supraliminal  sort,  he  was  the  man! 
He  mocked  secretly  at  himself  for  his  paradoxical 
thoughts,  but,  his  mind  made,  he  bounded  up  the  steps, 
taking  three  at  a  jump,  until  he  came  to  the  level  of 
the  doors. 

Now  he  stood  within  reaching  distance  of  the  figure. 
His  eye  took  in  a  cape  of  soft  gray,  with  two  little 
blue  tassels  falling  from  the  neck.  The  cape  awoke 
vague  recollections.  On  shipboard — yes — Bess!  He 
looked  again.  How  was  it  possible?  The  door  of  the 
temple  was  open — wide  open. 

He  put  out  one  hand,  and  withdrew  it.  The  figure 
had  its  back  to  him,  head  resting  against  the  door, 
rounded  shoulders  shaking  convulsively.  His  ears  be- 
came aware  of  muffled  sobbing. 

The  temple  door  open — and  Bess  here !  From  some 
recess  of  his  memory  came  the  remembrance  of 
Chu'un's  recognition  of  the  sketch  the  girl  had  made 
of  the  exiled  mandarin  of  the  white  banner.  It  oc- 


SIGNALS  FOR  CONSPIRACY  197 

curred  to  him  that  her  cheeks  were  flushed  when  she 
said  the  exile  was  dead.  That  mandarin  had  left 
China  with  the  keys  of  the  temple  in  his  possession — 
and 

Bess — a  thief! 

This  time  he  put  out  both  hands,  and  the  fingers 
sank  deep  into  the  flesh  under  the  soft  cape.  He 
turned  the  figure  around.  He  released  one  shoulder, 
and  held  up  the  girl's  head  by  pushing  against  the 
chin.  Her  eyes  streamed  tears.  She  would  not  look 
at  him. 

"Bess!"  he  said,  and  in  his  blind  rage  shook  her 
violently.  The  silver  bag  that  she  was  holding  fell 
from  her  grasp,  and  to  the  marble  platform.  The 
clasp  came  undone,  and  a  hundred  or  more  white  stars 
seemed  to  have  fallen  upon  the  marble.  Wrenne's 
eyes  went  down  to  them.  In  that  moment  he  realized. 

She  was  a  thief ! 

In  his  anger  he  almost  struck  her.  So  this  was  the 
girl  whom  he  had  come  near  abandoning  all  his 
schemes  for  success — because  perforce  they  were  un- 
worthy of  the  man  she  loved.  He  laughed,  and  the 
mirth  had  a  bitter  tang  in  it.  Her  eyes,  weary,  hope- 
less, met  his. 

"Don't,  Hamilton Don't — don't " 


198   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

She  stretched  out  her  arms,  beseeching  him.  He 
pushed  her  away  with  an  angry  snarl. 

"You  stole  those!"  he  said,  and  pointed  to  the 
gleaming  stones  at  his  feet. 

She  bowed  her  head  in  sobbing  acquiescence. 

"You  did?"  he  asked,  a  menace  in  his  tone. 

"Yes." 

His  teeth  grated  hard  against  one  another.  "You 
did— eh?  You  did.  Oh,  my  God!  You  did?  You 
stole  them,  did  you?  You  came  here  and  stole  them, 
and  you  meant  to  steal  them  all  along,  I  guess.  You 
did,  eh?"  He  was  snarling  again  at  her.  "You  did 
mean  to  steal  them  all  along?" 

Again  she  bowed  her  head. 

Wrenne  caught  her  wrists,  hurting  her  cruelly.  But 
the  physical  hurt  was  nothing  to  the  hurt  of  her  heart 
that  came  from  the  hardness  of  his  laugh. 

"And  I  came  here  to-night  to  ask  you  to  forgive 
me  because  my  feet  had  strayed  to  crooked  paths. 
And  to  get  honest  advice.  I  meant  to  watch  your 
honest  eyes — the  eyes  that  could  not  lie." 

It  was  then  he  had  laughed. 

"Honest  advice!  Honest  eyes!  My  God!  And 
you're  a  thief!" 

She  moaned,  but  he  was  merciless. 

"Now  let  me  tell  you  what  you've  done.    You  see 


SIGNALS  FOR  CONSPIRACY  199 

those  rockets?  When  I  set  them  off,  the  Reformers 
rise!  China  will  be  in  revolution.  I  came  to  you 
to  ask  should  they  send  their  message.  If  you  had 
said  'No,'  I  would  have  obeyed  you.  Now!  I'm  for 
my  own  hand  and  to  hell  with  honesty!  You  held 
the  fate  of  China  in  your  hand  to-night — and  lost 
your  chance.  Because  you  are  a  thief." 

He  threw  her  from  him  and  she  fell  to  her  knees; 
but  she  crawled  after  him  clutching  at  his  cloak. 

"No,  Hamilton.  Hamilton,  for  God's  sake,  no! 
I  can  explain,  I  can  explain." 

Her  moan  arose  to  a  scream.  For  all  his  greater 
strength  he  could  not  loosen  her  frenzied  clutch  on 
his  cloak. 

"Hamilton !  for  God's  sake — don't — don't — don't  do 
what  you  said!  Let  me  explain.  I  can  explain.  It 
wasn't  for  myself  I  did  it.  Hamilton — give  me  the 
rockets.  Don't " 

Suddenly  she  fell  face  foremost  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs.  Finding  it  impossible  to  loosen  her  hold,  he 
had  unfastened  the  jeweled  clasp  at  his  throat  and 
the  tension  relieved,  she  had  fallen  almost  at  his  feet, 
fallen  amid  the  folds  of  his  cloak. 

He  hurried  off  without  a  backward  glance — hurried 
off  in  the  direction  of  the  watch-tower.  When  she 
staggered  to  her  feet,  she  saw  the  tall  figure  outlined 


200   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

in  the  moonlight  as  he  climbed.  For  a  moment  it  was 
outlined  against  the  parapet,  then,  as  he  began  to 
ascend  the  winding  stairs  leading  to  the  watch-tower, 
the  foliage  of  the  tall  trees  hid  him  from  her  sight. 

While  she  stood  motionless,  the  face  of  the  moon 
was  hidden  by  a  passing  cloud.  As  its  pale  light  was 
blotted  out,  she  saw  a  flaming  arrow  rise  above  the 
walls  of  the  Three  Cities,  cleaving  the  black  cloud  in 
twain. 

Another  followed  and  a  third ;  three  golden  arrows : 
— the  signals  of  conspiracy. 

So  that,  when  the  cloud  passed  on  its  way  and  the 
moon  shone  bright  again,  it  shone  on  grim-visaged 
men  bearing  arms — men  from  the  North,  the  South, 
the  East,  the  West.  But  the  faces  of  all  were  turned 
toward  the  violet  city. 


CHAPTER  V 
DRUGGED 

SLOWLY,  painfully,  still  clinching  the  cloak,— all 
that  was  left  her  of  her  lover, — Bess  dragged 
herself     back.       But     before     she     came     to 
the  lotus-covered   lake   and  out   into  the  moonlight 
again,  she  passed  through  the  patch  of  jungle  and 
halted   mechanically   by   the   chu-sha-kih   tree.      Her 
hand  came  from  her  pocket  like  an  automaton's  and 
into  the  little  knot-hole,  that  safe  hiding-place  where 
the  keys  had  lain  since  her  first  day  in  the  Arbor  of 
Buddha's  Hand,  the  keys  dropped  back  again. 

Then  she  emerged  into  the  moonlit  circle  where  the 
lotus  leaves  lay  languorous  on  the  lake  and,  above  it, 
like  squat  green-black  monsters  of  a  nightmare,  the 
dwarfed  cedars  arose  and  the  crenellated  green  roof 
of  the  Arbor  of  Buddha's  hand.  Its  carven  red- 
lacquered  roof -posts  were  like  these  same  monsters' 
curved  horns,  their  shadows  sharply  etched  in  the 
moonlight  against  the  great  gray  pink  wall  that  en- 
circled the  Gardens  of  the  Invisible  Deity.  Under  its 
201 


202   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

lotus  leaves  the  lake  gleamed  like  a  polished  silver 
shield.  From  its  silver  cage  Bess'  nightingale  flooded 
the  scented  night  with  wave  upon  wave  of  a  flood 
of  poignantly  saddened  song. 

"I  forgot  to  let  him  out  to-night,  poor  Kitty,"  Bess 
said  dully.  She  had  called  her  songster  that  because 
he  was  like  poor  Aunt  Kitty,  caged  so  long,  yet  sing- 
ing so  sweetly.  She  had  to  remember  the  poor 
aunties.  It  was  better  for  her  to  be  a  thief  than  for 
them  to  suffer,  the  poor,  poor  aunties. 

Now  she  must  let  Kitty  out — let  him  fly  to  the  top  of 
the  tallest  cedar,  and  fly  down  and  drink  from  the 
lake;  have  all  the  little  pleasures  he  had  found  for 
himself  during  his  little  hour  of  freedom  each  night. 
So  she  quickened  her  dragging  pace  and  came  up  by 
the  little  winding  way  until  she  stood  under  her  win- 
dow where  the  nightingale  sang. 

"Coming,  Kitty,"  she  chirped,  trying  to  make  her 
voice  cheerful,  and  then,  by  another  effort,  came  up 
the  steps  and  into  the  Arbor.  One  of  her  attendants — 
she  could  never  keep  track  of  them,  they  sent  her  so 
many — slid  open  the  panel  for  her.  Bess  remembered 
her  now — that  one  with  the  fat  sly  face — Lu-Keng — 
the  one  she  liked  least  of  alL 

It  was  only  by  forcing  her  mind  to  dwell  on  such 
minor  details  that  she  was  able  to  keep  sane  at  all. 


DRUGGED  203 

The  maid  came  forward  to  take  the  cloak  she  car- 
ried, the  cloak  of  him  who  until  that  night  had  loved 
her.  But  she  would  not  let  her  touch  it.  Nor  the  one 
she  wore.  In  one  of  its  pockets  were  the  jewels. 

"No,  Lu-Keng,"  she  said,  sharply,  and,  going  to 
the  cupboard  of  her  bedroom,  she  locked  them  both 
away  and  attached  the  key  to  the  chain  about  her 
neck.  Had  she  looked  back  she  would  have  seen  the 
girls'  eyes  light  in  a  certain  covetous  gleam.  This  was 
the  girl  Ugichi  had  paid  highly  for  drugging  her 
with  sweetened  syrup  of  opium  and  searching  her 
mistress's  person  while  she  slept.  Lu-Keng's  name 
had  been  furnished  Sugiyama,  along  with  others  who 
could  be  bribed. 

Lu-Keng  was  to  earn  her  bribe  that  night — a  fair 
different  sort  of  bribe  from  the  meager  one  she  had 
paid  another  servant  for  the  privilege  of  taking  her 
place  about  the  Portrait-Painter  that  night. 

"Will  the  honorable  lady  permit  the  humblest  of  in- 
sects to  prepare  her  for  her  couch  ?" 

Lu-Keng  was  anxious  that  Bess  should  be  abed  and 
if  possible  asleep.  And  Bess  permitted  herself  to  be 
disrobed,  her  face,  hands  and  feet  bathed  in  scented 
water,  and  a  cup  of  tea  served  her.  She  was  too 
accustomed  now  to  the  odd  taste  of  things  Chinese  to 


204   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

suspect  a  soporific  added  to  the  tea.  Her  brain  was  too 
benumbed  to-night  to  think  at  all. 

And,  because  it  was  benumbed,  the  drug  took  swift 
effect.  Once  the  lights  within  the  gayly-colored  lan- 
terns were  extinguished,  she  fell  into  sudden  silent 
slumber  so  heavy  that  when  Lu-Keng  crept  in  and 
listened  and  finally  passed  a  lighted  candle  before  her 
eyes,  she  still  lay  as  do  the  dead. 

Soon  she  had  her  answer  in  the  sight  of  two  men, 
who,  waiting  for  the  darkening  of  the  moon,  crawled 
along,  beside  the  lotus-lake  on  flattened  bellies,  and 
finally  into  the  Arbor  of  Buddha's  Hand. 

Bess  still  slept — slept,  while  a  cord,  featherweight 
in  quality  but  strong  as  steel,  tightened  about  her 
ankles;  slept  while  a  sponge  was  thrust  beneath  her 
nostrils  and  the  sickly  sweet  odor  of  chloroform  filled 
the  room. 

When  the  moon  sank  behind  the  gray-pink  wall, 
the  two  men  crept  out  again,  but  this  time  erect,  and 
in  the  attire  of  Imperial  servants,  holding  the  shafts 
of  a  palanquin  between  them. 

They  passed  on  to  the  little  door  in  the  North  Wall: 
— the  little  secret  door  which  had  given  entry  to 
Hamilton  Wrenne  so  many  times.  When  they  were 
through  it  and  were  in  a  servants'  quarter  of  the 


DRUGGED  205 

Yamen,  two  soldiers  would  have  stopped  them  but 
they  grounded  their  gun-butts  at  the  pass-word 
"Chu'un  and  Progress." 

Once  outside  the  walls  they  pelted  off  along 
on  the  Great  North  Road  that  led  to  the  Wan-Shou- 
san  Summer  Palace  where  the  Barren  She- Wolf 
sheathed  her  claws.  And  beyond  to  what  she  called 
her  Pleasure-Palace,  and  others  the  Palace  of  Shame. 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  PLEASURE-PALACE 

WHEN  the  bonds  that  bound  Bess  were  loosened, 
and  the  bag  with  the  pierced  holes  that  had 
enveloped  her  head  was  removed,  she  re- 
called dimly  exchanging  a  sickly  sweetish  smell  for 
one  made  up  of  various  odors  of  the  Orient:  ylang- 
ylang,  sandal-wood,  and  the  variously  scented  incenses 
that  burned  in  the  high-placed  braziers,  one  for  each 
of   the  lacquered  columns   that   supported   the  lofty 
ceiling. 

She  had  found  herself  lying  on  the  softest  sort  of 
couch  and  because  she  was  a  person  who  loved  to 
lounge  just  so  at  home,  she  luxuriated  in  a  long 
stretch  and  yawn  before  her  eyes  convinced  her  she 
was  not  at  home  and  dreaming.  The  room  itself  was 
dark  save  for  a  swinging  censer  where  a  wick  swam 
in  aromatic  oil.  She  had  tottered  to  the  window — 
Bess  could  not  believe  as  yet  that  she  was  not  experi- 
encing some  peculiarly  vivid  dream — and  found  that 

206 


THE  PLEASURE-PALACE  207 

the  dim  dark  pagoda  in  which  she  found  herself  was 
set  high  above  a  grove  of  ghostly  temples  and  palaces, 
before  which  the  dogs  of  Fo  kept  watch — great  stone 
griffins  with  bulgy  eyes.  The  sliding  lattices  had  been 
pushed  aside  to  admit  the  clean,  sweet,  upper  air  that 
had  brought  her  out  of  her  unconsciousness. 

Below,  one  saw  ghastly  gardens  alive  with  strings 
of  lanterns  swaying  in  the  wind,  lanterns  with  the 
shapes  of  queer  birds  and  beasts,  while  illumined  kites 
like  the  lily  and  the  lotus  bobbed  and  danced  and  lit 
up  patches  of  dwarfed  green  trees  and  the  green  roof- 
trees  of  the  garden  arbors.  Color  rioted  on  every 
side  wherever  light  fell  and  it  fell  upon  crenellated 
roofings,  porcelain  gargoyles,  and  lacquered  goblins. 
.  .  .  From  that  height  the  bobbing  lanterns  seemed 
too  tiny  for  those  of  real  folk.  To  her  drugged  mind 
they  were  those  of  marsh-gallopers;  elves  and  sprites 
of  the  marsh,  making  merry  in  a  fairy  city  that  would 
vanish  overnight. 

From  down  below  arose  to  Bess  the  tink-tink-tinkle 
of  many  stringed  instruments,  and,  looking  down 
again,  she  saw  approaching  through  a  grove  of  cedars 
a  line  of  multi-colored  lanterns  dancing  about  on  long 
poles  carried  by  a  laughing  crew  of  sing-song  girls. 
The  lanterns  illuminated  their  flower-garlanded  heads 
and  their  long  gold-guarded  henna-stained  finger-nails 


208   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

as  they  struck  the  strings  of  their  san-hiens,  dancing 
and  singing  the  while. 

Synchronously  by  another  path  bordered  by  dwarf 
cypresses  appeared  a  long  procession  of  palanquins, 
preceded  by  retainers  loudly  beating  on  their  gongs, 
demanding  the  right  of  way  for  their  illustrious 
masters.  The  two  paths  converged  and  at  their  cross- 
ing the  bearers  knelt,  and  from  each  palanquin  there 
descended  a  richly  robed  mandarin,  stiff  with  gold 
brocade  and  wearing  a  crystal  button  or  a  long  droop- 
ing peacock's  feather  in  Ms  helmet-shaped  hat.  Be- 
fore each  mandarin  a  sing-song  girl  bent  the  knee. 

Bess'  brain  was  beginning  to  be  free  of  the  drug, 
and  realizing  that  this  was  no  dream,  reeled.  She  re- 
membered with  a  sickened  heart  the  tales  of  how  such 
important  officials  were  invited  to  a  certain  Imperial 
Pleasure  Palace  where  they  were  beguiled,  and  fur- 
nished with  all  that  sensuous  pleasure-loving  minds 
could  conceive.  If  such  mandarins  proved  to  be 
troublesome  folk  and  "too  serious,"  she  had  heard 
that  they  would  be  apt  to  leave  their  bodies  behind 
them.  If  beguilable,  they  left  more  than  their  bodies. 
Afar  from  the  seat  of  government  in  Peking,  the 
Dowager  She-Devil  had  done  more  or  less  what  she 
liked.  Thus  she  had  built  up  a  machine. 

For  the  Dowager  had  left  the  Wau-shou-san  Sum- 


THE  PLEASURE-PALACE  209 

mer  Palace  and  had  retired  to  her  infamous  Pleasure 
Palace  in  the  hills  of  Peh-li. 

Here  The  Brotherhood  of  the  Harmonious  Fists 
had  been  born.  Here  leaders  had  been  made  who  had 
preached  the  doctrine  of  "Death  to  the  Fengqui — the 
Foreign  Devil."  .  .  . 

Bess  roused  herself  by  a  violent  effort.  After  a 
moment  or  so  of  dazed  silence,  she  put  both  hands 
to  her  face  to  muffle  a  moan.  She  had  heard  of  this 
terrible  place,  knew  there  was  but  one  like  it  in  any 
of  the  country  near  Peking,  or  indeed  in  Peh-Li 
province.  She  was  in  the  Pleasure-City  of  the  Barren 
She-Wolf!  All  who  had  lived  a  month  in  the  For- 
bidden City  knew  its  history  and  knew  how  Tze-Hsi, 
when  middle-age  had  began  to  fill  her  with  fears,  had 
drained  a  certain  lake  and  there,  hidden  by  four  hills, 
had  set  thousands  of  masons  to  work  to  build  her 
Pleasure  Palace.  Then,  within  its  violet  walls,  she  had 
gathered  together  all  that  the  art  and  beauty  of  the 
Yellow  Kingdoms  could  give.  Such  a  place  as  this 
had  never  been  seen  since  the  days  of  the  Caesars. 
Tales,  sinister,  evil,  soul-scarifying  tales,  had  been  told 
about  it  ever  since  its  inception.  .  .  . 

Suddenly  she  realized  that  she  was  not  alone.  There 
was  someone  hiding  in  the  shadows  back  of  the  great 
central  brazier,  above  which  a  red  glow  outlined  some 


210   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

confused  objects  dimly.  And  one  of  these  objects 
had  moved,  ever  so  slightly. 

Bess  choked  back  a  scream.  She  had  never  been 
an  average  girl;  there  was  something  of  the  boy  in 
her  always.  Somehow  she  knew  it  was  a  man  back 
there  and  that  he  was  looking  at  her  although  she 
could  not  see  him.  Now — was  it  possible  or  had  she 
gone  mad?  She  seemed  to  see  swimming  through 
the  darkness  two  luminous  eyes. 

"I  see  you  back  there,"  she  managed  to  say  finally, 
steadying  her  voice  to  a  calmness  she  was  far  from 
feeling.  "Who  are  you  and  why  was  I  brought  here? 
What  is  this  place — where  is  it?"  She  ceased  speak- 
ing for  fear  of  hysteria. 

"Only  look  down,  Miss  Courtney,"  was  the  reply 
in  English  and  in  tones  absolutely  accentless.  "Only 
look  down  and  you  will  surely  recall  certain  stories 
of  the  place  where  you  are  and  possibly  of  what  your 
fate  will  be — one  so  beautiful  as  yourself — if  you  fail 
me  in  what  I  ask  of  you.  Or  perhaps  your  imagination 
is  lacking.  Perhaps  all  that  beauty  below  sounds  for 
you  no  sinister  note.  If  so,  I  have  permission  to 
conduct  you  hither  and  thither  about  the  palaces  and 
pavilions.  Certain  private  views  will,  I  am  sure,  afford 
you  the  information  your  imagination  may  deny 
you." 


THE  PLEASURE-PALACE  211 

She  stopped  him  with  a  gesture.  She  could  see 
him  now.  He  was  a  Chinese  in  a  scholar's  plain  robe, 
outlined  against  the  brazier. 

"What  do  you  want  of  me  ?"  she  demanded,  a  note 
of  terror  creeping  into  her  voice.  "Why  did  you 
bring  me  here?  What  have  I  done — what  do  you 
want?" 

"Just  one  thing.  The  keys  to  the  Double-Dragon 
doors.  Inform  me  where  I  can  find  them  and  you 
shall  go  free  the  instant  they  are  secured." 

Now  that  he  had  nearly  reached  her  and  the  moon- 
light showed  him  for  what  he  was,  not  even  the  man 
who  had  sent  him,  the  old  Samurai  in  his  Pagoda 
by  the  lake,  would  have  known  him  for  the  Sugiyama 
who  wore  the  Austrian-made  clothes  and  carried  the 
characterless  silk  hat  that  in  those  days  might  have 
been  bought  for  half-a-guinea  in  The  Strand.  This 
man  was  Chinese  to  his  finger-tips;  yes,  particularly 
to  his  finger-tips,  long  and  gold-guarded.  His  eyes 
were  hidden  by  a  pair  of  horn-rimmed  Mandarin 
spectacles;  his  robe  was  rich  but  of  sober  blue.  On 
its  breast  was  embroidered  in  a  lighter  shade  of  the 
same  color  the  ideographs  that  betokened  him  an  honor 
man  of  the  Great  University  of  Peking — a  distinction 
that  could  be  won  only  after  twenty  years  of  study. 
It  is  needless  to  say  that  Sugiyama  had  never  won 


212   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

any  such  distinction.  But  he  was  impersonating  one 
who  had;  one  long  deceased,  the  secretary  of  another 
dead  man,  the  Mandarin  Li-Wung-Ki,  with  whom  he 
had  fled  China. 

He  came  closer  to  Bess  now  that  she  stood  so  silent. 
His  total  absence  of  personal  feeling  in  the  matter 
made  him  more  sinister  than  one  who  threatened  to 
gain  his  own  ends.  Sugiyama  was  so  impersonal  he 
was  terrifying. 

"I  trust  Miss  Courtney  will  not  be  so  ridiculous  as 
to  refuse." 

"I  have  not  got  them,"  she  answered  in  a  low  voice. 
"They  are  not  here  in  China." 

"No?"  he  questioned  in  the  same  commonplace 
way.  "Then  may  I  ask  how  Miss  Courtney  secured 
these?" 

Lu-Keng  had  not  seen  her  lock  up  those  cloaks  in 
vain.  The  key  about  her  neck  had  opened  the  cup- 
board where  they  hung,  hers  and  Wrenne's,  and  from 
the  pocket  of  the  first  the  gems  had  been  taken  that 
Sugiyama  now  thrust  before  her  eyes. 

"It  is  most  unlikely,"  he  continued  in  the  same 
quiet  manner,  "that  Miss  Courtney  carries  about  her 
person  on  all  occasions  splendid  uncut  jewels  to  the 
amount  of  a  few  hundred  thousand  yen.  Besides 
these  jewels  were  not  in  her  pavilion  when  it  was 


THE  PLEASURE-PALACE  213 

searched  previous  to  her  capture.  In  any  event  it 
would  be  useless  for  her  to  deny  that  the  keys  are  in 
China,  for  her  brother,  Mr.  Austin  Courtney  of  Wash- 
ington, has  informed  us  otherwise." 

"Austin!  Austin  informed  you?"  He  bowed. 
"My  God!" 

"So  Miss  Courtney  will  understand  that  we  cannot 
afford  to  neglect  any  measure  that  will  enable  us  to 
learn  where  she  had  hidden  those  keys.  Any 
measure!" 

She  stood  silent  again.  Austin  had  been  a  thief 
and  a  forger  and  now  he  was  a  Judas,  too.  Well,  all 
the  more  reason  why  she  must  make  up  the  general 
average  of  the  family.  Wrenne  had  called  her  a 
thief,  too,  but  she  had  not  really  been  one.  What  she 
had  taken  had  been  to  replace  what  he  stole.  So 
it  was  Austin  really.  She  would  not  have  minded 
that.  She  was  sure  he  loved  the  aunties,  too.  He 
wouldn't  have  wanted  to  see  them  in  poverty. 

But  to  give  up  the  keys.  That  would  be  betrayal. 
And  worst  of  all,  to  give  them  up  to  the  hateful  Em- 
press-Dowager, the  She-Devil  who  had  misruled 
China  so  long,  who,  at  last,  was  deposed  for  her 
deviltries!  Hadn't  Li  fled  for  fear  that  the  Barren 
She- Wolf  would  demand  the  keys?  And  to  give  them 
to  her  now  would  be  to  hurt  the  party  of  the  man 


214   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

she  loved,  the  Reform  Party.  It  would  be  to  hurt 
Wrenne  himself. 

Sugiyama  broke  the  silence. 

"You  refuse?" 

She  did  not  pause  to  think  of  the  result  of  her 
answer. 

"Certainly,"  she  said. 

She  was  near  enough  to  see  his  hand  raised  in  the 
back-lighting  from  the  open  lattice.  Her  own  fol- 
lowed his  movement  and — so  well  could  he  see  even  in 
the  dark — that  he  know  that  something  had  flashed 
in  her  palm  before  her  fingers  closed  on  it.  But  she 
did  not  use  it,  not  yet,  only  prayed  it  would  not  be 
necessary. 

His  hand  had  gone  up  merely  to  strike  upon  a 
certain  gong. 

Another  silence  followed,  during  which  the  tinkle- 
tinkle  of  the  san-hiens  and  the  faint  cries  of  merri- 
ment continued  from  below.  It  was  a  brief  silence, 
this  one;  then  the  corridors  outside  became  veritable 
moving  forests  of  light  Men  bearing  torches  and 
women  with  lanterns  crowded  in,  revealing  a  lofty 
room  of  carven  wood  and  silk  paneling  upon  which 
were  painted  dragons,  demons,  dwarfs  and  peacocks. 
The  floor  was  in  blocks  of  red  and  black  marble,  part- 


THE  PLEASURE-PALACE  215 

hidden  by  marvelous  rugs.  Rare  and  costly  Ming 
porcelains  matched  their  otherwise  matchless  hues. 

The  blazing  torches  carried  by  the  men  were  thrust 
into  wall-sconces.  The  women  hung  their  lanterns 
from  lacquered  brackets  overhead. 

When  the  last  was  in  its  place,  Sugiyama  dismissed 
the  light-bearers  with  a  careless  stroke  of  the  gong. 

"Look  at  them,"  he  said  as  carelessly. 

For  all  their  rare  and  costly  attire,  Bess  had  seen 
no  distinguishing  badges  of  rank.  Suddenly  she  knew 
these  poor  wretches  for  what  they  were;  slaves 
selected  for  their  ornamental  value  as  sheerly  as  the 
rugs  and  porcelains.  But  of  less  value,  apparently, 
for  the  porcelains  would  not  fade,  or  if  the  rugs  did 
so  they  gained  value  in  color-tone. 

While  these  poor  human  chattels  .  .  . 

As  she  watched  them  drift  back  to  wherever  it  was 
they  came  from,  she  became  acutely  aware  of  certain 
terrifying  facts.  In  going  none  dared  turn  his  back 
or  hers.  They  kept  their  eyes  steadily  on  the  man 
called  Sugiyama,  as  do  dogs  when  going  through 
their  tricks.  But  though  their  attitude  betokened  fear, 
there  was  no  such  expression  in  their  eyes.  It  was 
then  the  first  terrifying  fact  imposed  itself  on  her. 

The  same  expression  was  in  every  pair  of  eyes! 
Expression?  Lack  of  it,  rather.  There  was  some- 


216        DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

thing  wrong  with  these  poor  people,  and  whatever  it 
was,  Sugiyama  wanted  her  to  know  what  it  was.  His 
smile  enraged  her.  But  the  rage  in  her  eyes  gave 
way  to  fear  when  she  saw  what  he  meant  her  to  see. 
Fear?  Say  rather — terror! 

His  disquieting  eyes  held  her.     He  smiled  again. 

"They  smile,  too.  But  do  you  notice  they  do  not 
laugh — like  this?" 

With  an  abrupt  and  startling  violence  he  threw  back 
his  head  in  a  guffaw  of  mirth  as  loud  as  it  was 
feigned. 

As  the  echoes  died  away  she  became  aware  of  the 
awful  silence  that  followed.  Yet  all  these  poor  people 
were  laughing.  They,  too,  had  their  heads  thrown 
back.  That  general  movement  of  the  lips  was  one 
of  mirth. 

Yet  no  sound  ensued.     None! 

"Look!"  commanded  Sugiyama,  and  laid  hands 
upon  the  nearest  man — boy,  rather — a  comely  young 
Shantung  Chinese.  He  opened  the  boy's  jaw  as  he 
would  a  dog's. 

Bess  dared  not.  .  .  . 

"Look!"  again  directed  Sugiyama,  and  his  eyes 
threatened  her.  This  time  he  selected  a  girl  of  six- 
teen or  thereabouts;  one  wearing  high  satin  boots 
embroidered  with  flowers  and  soled  with  kid. 


THE  PLEASURE-PALACE  21T 

Docilely  she  opened  her  mouth  at  his  command. 
And  this  time  Bess  Courtney  looked  .  .  .  and  quickly 
looked  away,  stifling  all  but  the  beginning  of  a  shrill 
scream.  For  now  she  knew  why  all  those  who  smiled 
could  not  laugh — or  speak — or  even  make  the  noises 
that  animals  do. 

She  wanted  to  cry  out  to  God,  and  sink  down  hiding 
her  face  in  her  hands. 

Yet  she  stood  erect  and  angry,  seemingly  unafraid. 

The  last  of  the  painted  butterflies  kow-towed  for 
the  last  time  and  again  she  and  Sugiyama  were  alone. 

But  not  for  long.  For,  as  she  turned  and  fled  to 
the  window  from  which  the  lattices  had  been  drawn, 
and  would  have  flung  herself  forth  into  space,  certain 
curtains  swayed  and  parted  and  she  found  herself 
held  by  unceremonious  hands  and  held  so  adroitly  that 
even  to  attempt  to  turn  to  see  who  held  her  would 
have  caused  unbearable  pain. 

"You  have  your  choice,  fair  lady,"  said  Sugiyama, 
as  his  eyes  searched  hers.  "My  Emperor  and  your 
Empress  find  they  have  affairs  in  common  both  of 
which  are  interfered  with  by  your  stubbornness.  If 
you  will  inform  me  as  to  where  I  will  find  the  keys, 
you  shall  have  enough  of  the  jewels  to  make  you  rich 
for  life.  You  and  your  Wrenne  both  will  have 
wealth  to  spend  and  to  spare.  You  will  reign  where 


218   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

women  should  always  reign.  In  the  center  of  civiliza- 
tion such  beauty  as  yours  is  reckoned  at  its  true  worth. 
Come!  Your  Wrenne  will  not  love  you  less — but 
more!  For  he  will  have  then  only  you  to  think  of 
and  adore !" 

"And  hate,  you  mean,"  came  in  her  calm  scornful 
voice.  "As  all  true  men — and  women,  too— must  hate 
a  traitor!" 

"Do  you  think  he  will  love  you  more  when  you  are 
like  those  slave-creatures  who  have  just  gone?" 

She  shivered  and  was  silent.  Sugiyama  waited. 
Conquering  her  physical  fear,  she  faced  him  as  best 
she  might  when  strong  hands  held  her  from  behind. 

"Do  whatever  you  did  to  them — damn  you!"  she 
said,  and  laughed  at  him — laughed  to  think  that  she 
could  buy  anything  with  that  stolen  wealth  half  so 
precious  as  the  self-respect  she  sold. 

In  that  minute  Sugiyama  came  closer  to  respecting 
a  woman  than  he  had  believed  possible.  But  he  mas- 
tered this  unmanly  weakness. 

"As  you  say,"  he  bowed  politely,  "we  will  pro- 
ceed!" 

He  crossed  the  room  to  the  black  curtain  and  draw- 
ing them  and  the  sliding  panels  behind  them,  dis- 
closed an  operating  table.  A  man  dressed  in  sur- 
geon's white  garberdine,  mask,  rubber-gloved  hand 


THE  PLEASURE-PALACE  «19 

holding   a   pair   of   tweezers   was   taking   surgeon 
knives  from  an  antiseptic  oven  and  placing  them  on 
the  operating  tray  a  blue-robed  nurse  was  holding  foi; 
him. 

As  he  laid  the  last  one  down  and  picked  up  a 
hypodermic  from  the  tray,  beckoning  to  the  attendants 
to  bring  their  prisoner  to  the  operating  table  that  he 
might  give  her  temporary  quietude  before  the  anes- 
thesia, Bess  Courtney  crumpled  up  and  fell  on  the 
marble  floor  at  his  feet. 


BOOK  THE  FOURTH 


CHAPTER  I 
Two  DIAMOND  PARROTS 

IN  those  days  that  seem  so  remote  now,  although 
barely  a  decade  separates  us  from  them,  Friday 
nights  at  the  Hotel  de  1'Univers  were  events 
residents  of  the  Tartar  City  eagerly  awaited,  especially 
the  Europeans.     For  although  the  unclassed  and  the 
declasse  might  not  be  invited  to  Legation  Balls  and 
private  houses,  none  could  bar  them  here.     But  two 
possessions  were  necessary;  a  dress-coat,  or  an  even- 
ing-gown,  and  the  price  of  a  dinner — and   Peking 
lacked  neither  dress-clothes  nor  spendthrifts. 

An  almost  barbaric  profusion  prevailed.  Tien-tsin 
being  the  clearing-house  of  the  Manchu  hunters  and 
trappers  for  furs  going  via  Shanghai  to  San  Fran- 
cisco, even  the  military  wore  fur-trimmed  garments. 
So  that,  as  they  appeared  on  entering  the  hotel,  men 
as  well  as  women  were  muffled  up  in  costly  seals  and 
sables,  martins  and  minevers.  Underneath  their 
"British  warms"  English  officers  from  Shanghai-Kuan 

223 


224   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

wore  high-collared  dark  blue,  with  golden  pips  on  their 
shoulder-straps  and  a  width  of  scarlet  braid  to  dress- 
trousers  strapped  tightly  below  spurred  patent-leather 
boots.  Beneath  their  Melton  great-coats,  fur-lined, 
American  navy-men  were  in  their  heavily  braided 
blue.  A  sprinkling  of  constabularies  on  leave  from 
Manila,  were  very  gorgeous  with  red  epaulettes, 
across  which  sprawled  the  heavy  gold  bars  of  rank 
and  the  screaming  eagle.  One  saw,  too,  French  of- 
ficers, always  gay  with  gilt,  officers  from  down  Indo- 
China  way ;  gray  Germans  from  Wei-Hai-Wei,  almost 
medieval  in  their  helmets,  cloaks  and  clanking  swords. 
.  .  .  Then  there  were  the  Russian  officers  from  New- 
chwang,  Port  Arthur,  .  .  .  anywhere,  everywhere. 
For  in  those  days  the  Russians  still  held  Manchuria. 
You  saw  then  in  the  red  of  the  telegraph,  the  blue- 
black  of  the  navy,  and  the  sky  and  orange  tints  of  the 
cavalry  and  artillery. 

Then  there  were  the  civilians;  English,  American 
and  Russian  merchants,  long  resident  in  the  land  of 
Tien-Ha  into  whom  the  spirit  of  the  country  had  en- 
tered, grave,  repressed,  fatalistic.  And  the  various 
members  of  the  Diplomatic  Corps,  Legation  staffs  and 
the  like.  Although  London  was,  as  it  ever  will  be,  the 
standard  for  the  cut  of  men's  coats  and  the  sober 
rich  materials  thereof,  Continental  ideas  prevailed  as 


TWO  DIAMOND  PARROTS  225 

to  dress-shirts  and  waistcoats.  One  saw  jeweled 
waistcoat  buttons  that  matched  jeweled  shirt-studs  set 
between  a  pair  of  parallel  frills  in  the  center  of 
elaborately  plaited  linen,  or  pique  or,  was  a  man  wear- 
ing a  dinner-coat,  of  Chefoo  silk. 

Others  than  the  gray  Germans  wore  cloaks,  cloaks 
held  in  place  by  platinum,  gold,  or  silver  chains; 
sometimes  with  jeweled  clasps.  Were  these  male 
cloaks  not  lined  with  fur,  their  linings  matched  the 
silk  of  their  dress-waistcoats.  The  number  of  Rus- 
sians present  accounted  for  all  this  latter  business. 
The  younger  Anglo-Saxons  went  as  far  as  they  dared 
to  match  their  barbaric,  yet  often  beautiful,  idea  of 
ornamental  attire  for  the  evening. 

Here  the  women  shone;  rings,  bar-pins,  neck- 
laces, chains — all  sorts  of  precious  profusion  .  .  . 
that  you  may  easily  understand.  To  shine  out  in  such 
a  gathering  proved  a  woman's  beauty  to  be  a  sort  of 
genius. 

Yet  thus  a  certain  woman  shone.  She  was  an 
exotic,  Oriental-Occidental  type,  Aryan  so  far  as  fea- 
tures went,  but  with  an  obliquity  of  golden-brown  eye 
and  skin  of  the  rare  color  of  wild  rose  painted  on  old 
ivory.  Her  name  was  Ysobel  Arling,  or  at  least  so  she 
called  herself.  And  what  her  business  was  in  Peking 
no  one  exactly  knew,  no  one,  that  is,  except  those  who 


226   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

possessed  those  jeweled  pins  in  which  a  parrot  was 
represented  in  miniature. 

Earlier  on  that  same  night,  about  the  time  that 
Bess  Courtney  returned  to  the  Arbor  of  Buddha's 
Hand,  she  had  pre-empted  a  stragetic  point  of  vantage 
in  the  Hotel  de  1'Univers'  Salle-a-manger;  one  from 
which  she  could  observe  all  who  entered.  Across  the 
Friday  night  damask,  silver,  crystal,  and  cut-flowers  sat 
a  young  man  of  no  importance  to  our  story.  That  he 
was  important  to  Ysobel  Arling  is  proven  by  his 
presence  there.  For  he  belonged  to  one  of  the  Lega- 
tions and  knew  things  she  was  being  paid  to  find  out. 

"It  is  strange,"  commented  this  young  man  whose 
dress-clothes  came  from  that  semi-circle  whose  cir- 
cumference is  Bond  Street  and  Burlington  Gardens, 
and  whose  diameter  is  Saville  Row,  "it  is  strange 
that  none  of  the  I.  C.  A.*  chaps  are  here  to-night. 
Corkey" — one  whose  income  had  not  been  sufficient 
for  a  commission  in  The  Guards — "Stanislas" — an 
exiled  Polish  Prince — "Don  Jaime" — one  whose  Span- 
ish silver  had  been  melted  for  the  Carlists — "Hamilton 
Wrenne."  The  young  man  went  on  mentioning  others. 
"None  of  them  here  to-night.  I  wonder  why." 

They  were  concluding  with  after-dinner  cordials 
from  squat  cob-webbed  bottles  with  dates  a  half- 

*  Imperial  Chinese  Army. 


TWO  DIAMOND  PARROTS  227 

century  old  blown  in  their  glass.  The  keynote  of  these 
exiles  was  enormous  expenditure  in  unimpeachable 
good  taste,  and  these  cordials  were  a  fitting  aftermath 
to  a  dinner  devised  by  a  Cordon  Bleu  and  served  with 
a  Burgundy  that  was  a  gift  of  the  Gods. 

Ysobel  Arling  did  not  answer.  The  dandiacal 
diplomat  did  not  take  this  in  good  part. 

"I  should  have  thought  you  would  have  noticed," 
he  said  grimly.  "You  are  always  asking  me  things 
about  Hamilton  Wrenne.  Do  you  know  he  has  rooms 
here  now?" 

"Rooms  here?"  she  responded,  mechanically  curi- 
ous. Actually  her  presence  at  that  table  on  that  par- 
ticular night  was  due  to  the  very  fact  that  Wrenne  did 
have  rooms  there ;  a  fact  of  which  she  had  been  aware 
for  at  least  a  week.  Wrenne  had  not  dared  receive 
plotting  Tartar  princes,  Manchu  Red  Girdles  and  Mon- 
golian White  Banner  Men  in  his  quarters  within  the 
Forbidden  City. 

"Why  I  imagined  he  would  be  compelled  to  live  in 
the  Violet  City.  Why  is  he  here?  Isn't  he  Colonel  of 
the  Guard?" 

The  young  man  nodded.  "I  do  not  know  whether 
he  sleeps  here  or  not.  But  he  has  rooms  here  and 
gives  card-parties.  I  attended  one  the  other  night." 
He  had  indeed.  One  of  those  innocent  affairs  Wrenne 


228   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

was  obliged  to  give  to  mask  those  that  were  otherwise. 
At  the  clubs  a  month  or  more  since  Wrenne  had  begun 
to  gamble  heavily  before  he  took  these  rooms,  this  was 
to  have  been  another  reason  for  taking  them. 

"I  wonder  if  he  is  upstairs  now  playing  poker. 
That's  probably  why  he  isn't  here." 

"Probably,"  agreed  the  girl,  who  was  quite  well 
aware  of  what  was  to  happen  within  the  "Violet  City" 
that  night.  So  that  when  the  boom  of  the  great  guns 
rose  and  fell,  she  was  one  of  the  few  in  the  salle-a- 
manger  whose  manner  betrayed  no  emotion. 

The  rolling  reverberations  from  the  forts'  emplace- 
ment batteries,  was  followed,  evidently  from  a  great 
distance,  by  the  intermittent  crackling  of  the  machine- 
guns  and  the  resonant  echoes  of  the  attacking  forces 
and  echoes  of  their  musketry  fire.  Then  came  the 
crash  of  bombs,  and,  after  a  confused  roar  made  up 
of  many  sorts  of  explosions,  silence,  complete  silence. 

By  this  time  almost  every  man  and  every  woman 
who  had  not  fainted  was  on  his  or  her  feet,  and  there 
was  a  rush  toward  the  doors.  These,  however,  had 
been  long  since  closed,  then  keys  turned  in  the  locks. 
At  the  same  time  the  shutters  had  been  fastened  from 
the  outside,  barring  the  windows. 

The  manager  of  the  Hotel  De  1'Univers  had  had 


TWO  DIAMOND  PARROTS  229 

his  orders  earlier  in  the  day,  and,  accustomed  to  riots 
and  revolutions,  had  safeguarded  his  hotel. 

He  now  stood  among  his  guests,  a  polite  perspiring 
little  Eurasian. 

"Ladies  and  Gentlemen,"  he  called  from  the  alcove 
table  he  had  mounted,  "it  will  all  be  over  presently. 
Until  then  the  streets  may  be  unsafe.  My  orders  came 
from  the  Forbidden  City.  You  will  forgive,  please." 

He  climbed  down  and  took  his  place  at  the  small 
table  in  the  alcove.  When  musketry  fire  began  again 
intermittently  and  finally  ceased  altogether,  some  of 
his  male  guests  became  threatening  and  one  or  two 
excitable  Russian  officers  picked  up  heavy  chairs  with 
which  to  smash  the  doors. 

"Please,  gentlemen,  I  ask  you.  But  a  few  moments 
more  and  I  will  open  them." 

He  spoke  truly.  A  steady  rapping  on  the  outer 
door  and  a  voice  in  Chinese  monotonously  intoning, 
caused  him  to  give  the  order  that  opened  the  doors. 
Outside  stood  those  who  had  closed  them — a  sergeant's 
squad  under  one  of  Wrenne's  own  men,  the  tall 
Manchu,  Thsang.  He  it  was  who  now  indicated  the 
newcomer,  a  messenger  from  the  Violet  City. 

"The  trouble  is  over,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  de- 
claimed the  hotel-proprietor.  "You  may  go  when  you 
like.  Forgive.  I  but  obeyed  orders." 


230   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

At  almost  the  same  moment  a  Chinese  "boy"  in 
cotton-wadded  blue  came  to  a  halt  at  Ysobel  Arling's 
table.  In  answer  to  her  inquiring  look  the  boy 
indicated  his  palm  held  under  the  table  so  only 
she  could  see  the  diamond  parrot  there.  The  hand 
closed  again  and  immediately  hers  hidden  by  her 
damask  serviette  from  the  sight  of  all  eyes  but  the 
"boy's,"  opened  and  shut  swiftly  so  that  he  had  a 
glimpse  of  a  similar  jewel.  He  then  handed  her  a 
letter  from  his  sleeve  and  swiftly  withdrew. 

"Forgive  me,"  she  asked  of  the  young  man,  and 
broke  the  seal.  Within  was  another  sealed  envelope, 
a  scribbled  message  wrapped  around  it.  It  was  in 
code  but  she  read  it  without  difficulty.  The  transla- 
tion was: 

She  is  on  her  way  to  the  Jehol.  Give  the  enclosed  to  Wrenne. 
He  will  be  at  the  hotel  within  the  hour  to  consult  with  his  allies. 

SUGIYAMA. 

She  swiftly  thrust  the  sealed  envelope  into  her 
corsage. 

"You  must  see  me  to  my  carriage,"  she  commanded 
her  young  escort  as  she  arose.  To  all  his  protests 
that  he  must  see  her  home  she  returned  a  frigid  re- 
fusal. He  would  have  known  why,  had  he  seen  her 
coachman  turn  his  horses  back  towards  the  hotel  as 


TWO  DIAMOND  PARROTS  231 

soon  as  the  young  man's  'rickshaw  was  well  on  its  way 
to  his  Legation. 

Ysobel  Arling  re-entered  the  hotel  from  the  rear 
and  made  her  way  to  Wrenne's  suite  of  rooms.  Here 
she  encountered  the  Mandarin  Liang-Hiao,  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  of  the  Imperial  Guard  and  Wrenne's  right- 
hand  man. 

The  Mandarin  Liang,  or  Sir  Lang  as  he  was  gen- 
erally known  to  the  foreign  mercenaries,  was  a  tall 
Manchu,  the  Commander  of  the  Imperial  Guard,  and 
a  Red  Girdle  Manchu  Mandarin.  He  stood  some  six 
feet  four  in  his  glistening  patent-leather  knee-boots. 
Two  or  three  inches  of  this,  however,  was  due  to  his 
high  vaquero  heels,  his  small  well-shaped  feet  being 
Sir  Lang's  pet  pride. 

He  was  a  pleasant-faced  fellow  with  a  philosopher's 
smile.  He  had  completed  his  portion  of  the  night's 
work  and  had,  on  arriving  at  the  hotel,  received 
Wrenne's  message  that  Chu'un  was  dead.  Nothing 
more  could  be  accomplish  until  the  morrow. 

The  Reformers  held  every  fort  on  the  walls  of 
Peking,  the  note  told  him,  every  gate  of  the  Three 
Cities.  The  Emperor's  palace  was  ringed  about  with 
Mongols  and  Tartars  from  the  desert  provinces.  His 
Prime  Minister  had  been  informed  of  the  death  of 
Chu'un  and  the  danger  of  a  Japanese  protectorate 


232   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

unless  he  signed  the  decree  that  appointed  Yuan-Shi- 
Kai  Viceroy-General  of  the  Empire  and  consented  to 
rule  through  him  and  the  reformers.  Also  to  sign  a 
second  decree  perpetually  banishing  Tze-Hsi  to  the 
Jehol  Palaces,  and  forbidding  her  either  to  use  any 
of  her  former  imperial  power  or  to  return  to  Peking. 

"Thus,"  Wrenne  had  told  Liang-Hiao  in  his  note, 
"an  almost  bloodless  revolution  has  been  arranged. 
And  Chu'un's  death  is  avenged.  For  the  Emperor, 
knowing  now  what  it  was  that  Japan  had  planned, 
will  be  willing  that  Yuan  show  her  no  favors.  Yuan 
himself  was  not  personally  concerned  in  our  bloodless 
revolution,  and  he  is  assuredly  China's  chiefest  man. 
The  Emperor  will  undoubtedly  sign  the  decrees  in  the 
morning.  The  Mongol  and  Tartar  guards  will  then  be 
withdrawn  and  my  own  returned  to  their  places.  And 
perhaps  it  is  as  well  that  the  world  in  general  should 
not  know  that  there  has  been  a  change  in  government. 

"So  we  cry  checkmate  to  Japan.  Dismiss  the  vari- 
ous Chieftains  and  await  thy  Wrenne." 

Sir  Lang,  having  read  this  for  the  third  time,  had 
closed  the  door  and  now  was  sitting  in  a  great  chintz- 
covered  easy  chair  by  the  window,  staring  at  the  two 
steady  streams  of  carriages,  'rickshaws,  and  palan- 
quins— with  an  occasional  motor  or  two— that  were 


TWO  DIAMOND  PARROTS  233 

departing  from  the  hotel  bearing  officers  and  civilians 
in  evening-dress  or  native  noblemen  and  wealthy 
merchants.  When  Ysobel  Arling  entered  without 
knocking  his  body  had  stiffened,  and  his  hand  flown 
to  his  sword-hilt,  but  he  betrayed  not  the  slightest 
bit  of  outward  interest  in  her  unexpected  appearance. 

"I  had  expected  to  see  Colonel  Wrenne,"  she 
faltered,  at  the  sight  of  his  grim  face.  For  Sir  Lang 
knew  well  enough  who  and  what  she  was. 

"Certainly,  mademoiselle,"  he  whispered  hoarsely 
in  French,  "but  you  could  not  expect  me  to  believe 
that  he  expected  to  see  you." 

He  was  grinning  as  he  faced  the  woman  across  the 
table  of  the  suite's  reception-room.  A  certain  snap- 
ping of  his  fingers  before  he  spoke  had  brought  them 
an  audience.  Looking  toward  the  open  door,  the  girl 
saw  two  of  his  cavalrymen  outside,  the  hall-lights 
gleaming  on  the  brass  buckles  of  their  accoutrements. 
Even  the  butts  of  their  old-fashioned  "bull-dog" 
pistols  were  of  brass.  But,  of  course,  she  could  not 
see  that  as  these  remained  enholstered.  The  men, 
after  their  salute,  folded  their  arms  and  lounged  at 
ease. 

"Send  them  away,"  said  Ysobel  Arling  angrily. 

"I  am  sorry,  mademoiselle,"  Sir  Lang  grinned,  "but 


234   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

I  cannot  afford  to  be  suspected  of  secret  traffic  with 
the  enemy." 

So  they  stood,  facing  one  another  across  the  table 
as  Hamilton  Wrenne  entered,  and  with  the  stiff,  some- 
what stilted  Southern  courtesy  that  he  reserved  for 
his  enemies,  bowed  ceremoniously  to  the  intruder. 

"I  came,"  she  said  coldly,  "to  bring  you  this." 

She  handed  him  the  sealed  letter,  of  whose  contents, 
however,  she  was  well  aware.  His  eyes  brightened 
as  he  recognized  the  handwriting  of  Bess  Courtney. 
He  broke  it  open. 

The  incredible  contents  of  the  envelope  read: 

Come  at  once,  and  if  you  would  avert  evil  consequences  for 
me,  tell  no  one — no  one.  This  is  important,  not  that  my  life, 
which  is  of  small  consequence  after  all,  should  be  saved,  but 
that  there  should  a  cessation  of  certain  severe  methods  of 
suasion  by  which  my  loyalty  to  you  and  to  China  are  being 
put  to  the  test.  If  the  new  day  is  to  dawn,  if  I  am  released 
(if  I  am  to  be)  and  if  I  do  not  instantly  take  my  own  life  for 
very  shame,  I  must  be  relieved  at  once.  If  only  they  would  kill 
me,  all  would  be  well.  I  can  stand  no  more  of  their  fiendish 
ingenious  torture.  If  only  I  could  go  mad— but  they  are  too 
diabolically  clever  to  let  that  happen.  Mad  people  forget  and 
I  am  valuable  to  them  only  so  long  as  I  remember — remember 
where  the  keys  are — the  keys  to  the  Double-Dragon  doors. 

This  will  be  brought  to  you  by  one  whom  I  have  reason  for 
believing  is  faithful.  But  certain  circumstances  make  it  im- 
perative that  no  one  save  yourself  shall  know  this  person  is 


TWO  DIAMOND  PARROTS  235 

betraying  the  confidence  of  my  captors.  Tear  this  up  and 
follow  the  bearer's  instructions.  Tell  no  one  and  come  im- 
mediately. 

Your  Tortured, 

BESS. 

A  stifled  groan  broke  from  the  reader.  Then 
Wrenne's  jaws  snapped  together  and  his  eyes  grew 
cold  and  hard. 

"Where  is  she?"  he  demanded. 

Ysobel  Arling  looked  aghast.  "Does  the  note  not 
tell  you  to  tell  no  one?" 

"Where  is  she?" 

"I  will  tell  you  nothing  unless  you  follow  the  in- 
structions in  the  note.  I  am  risking  enough  as  it  is. 
Unless  Sir  Liang  goes  with  you." 

"Sir  Liang  goes  with  me.    Where  is  she  ?" 

"At  the  Jehol  Palace.  Unless  you  hasten  it  will 
be  too  late." 

Ysobel  Arling  looked  from  one  stern  face  to  an- 
other. Then  swiftly  Wrenne  outlined  to  Sir  Liang 
the  nature  of  the  note  and  the  possession  by  Bess  of 
the  keys  to  the  Double-Dragon  doors. 

"You  know  her  handwriting?  No!  Here  is  a  note 
from  her  written  yesterday.  Read  it — and  this!" 

He  tossed  both  to  his  Manchu  aide,  meanwhile 
holding  the  girl  with  hard  eyes. 


336   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

"When  you  have  read,"  he  continued,  still  with  his 
eyes  upon  her,  "ride  to  the  Violet  City  and  rouse  my 
squadron  of  Household  Horse." 

Ysobel  Arling  interrupted,  frantically: 

"No!  no!  Would  you  ruin  me?  I  will  lead  you 
and  Sir  Liang  to  her.  If  you  send  for  more,  I  will 
lead  you  nowhere.  Now  you  know." 

"Sir  Liang,"  said  Wrenne  sternly,  "have  you  lead? 
What  do  you  think?" 

"A  clever  forgery — as  far  as  the  writing  goes.  For 
no  American  or  English  woman  ever  wrote  such  a 
sentence  such  as  this:  There  should  be  a  cessation 
of  certain  severe  methods  of  suasion,  by  which  my 
loyalty  to  you  and  to  China  is  being  put  to  the  test.' 
The  forger  should  have  remembered  that  Anglo- 
Saxons  for  the  most  part  write  as  they  think :  in  short, 
tense  clauses.  Am  I  right,  my  Wrenne?" 

"You  are  right.  This  is  a  decoy  to  draw  us  to  our 
deaths.  I  do  not  doubt  that  the  Portrait  Painter  is 
a  prisoner.  Of  that,  however,  I  will  make  sure.  If 
she  is,  she  is  not  where  the  woman  says  she  is." 

Wrenne's  stern  eyes  met  hers.  She  gave  him  back 
look  for  look. 

"I  come  to  you  at  the  risk  of  my  life — and  the  ruin 
of  my  career.  The  one  that  wrote  that  letter  told 


TWO  DIAMOND  PARROTS  237 

me  that  I  might  trust  you.  And  you  brow-beat  and 
bully  me  and  tell  me  that  I  lie." 

"I  leave  that  to  better  judges,  Mademoiselle." 

Wrenne's  anger  was  still  in  leash.  "And  now  it 
grieves  me  that  I  must  do  this,  but  unless  you  choose 
to  reveal  the  real  whereabouts  of  Miss  Courtney,  I 
have  no  option  but  to  order  you  kept  in  the  closest 
confinement  until  ..." 

"Until  you  deport  me,"  she  mocked. 

Wrenne  turned  away,  his  face  suddenly  saturnine. 

"Colonel  Liang,"  he  said,  hoarsely,  a  tone  that  from 
him  resembled  nothing  so  much  as  the  angry  cawing  of 
a  sable-plumed  raven,  "you  will  assume  charge  of  the 
prisoner  and  instantly  take  such  severe  measures  as 
you  may  see  fit  to  insure  immediate  compliance  with 
my  orders." 

Luckily  for  Wrenne,  luckily  for  Bess,  luckily  for  the 
Mandarin  called  Sir  Kay  Liang,  Ysobel  Arling,  sud- 
denly startled,  went  through  a  surprising  series  of 
muscular  gyrations,  shivering,  shuddering,  twitching. 

Several  times  she  essayed  speech.  But  it  was  not 
until  Wrenne,  Southern-like,  concerned  at  the  sight  of 
any  woman  in  distress,  advanced  upon  her,  that  she 
achieved  it.  Evidently  his  wrinkled  brow  had  the 
effect  of  saturninity  to  her  frightened  fancy,  for  she 
shrank,  visibly  shrank  from  him.  So  much  so  that 


238        DOOR  OF  THE  .DOUBLE  DRAGON 

he  could  not. interpret  her  inexplicable  terror  as  due 
to  what  he  had  just  said. 

"No — no,"  she  muttered.  Then,  as  he  continued 
to  advance,  not  yet  realizing  that  what  he  meant  for 
re-assurance  was  being  misread.  "No,  no,  no !" 

Her  voice  rose  with  each  monosyllable  until  it 
reached  its  crescendo  in  a  shrill  falsetto  shriek. 

"No!  Oh,  no!  You  wouldn't  do  that — you 
wouldn't — you  couldn't — you  wouldn't  dare " 

Her  immediate  pallor  asserted  itself  all  the  more 
insistently  because  her  cheeks  remained  so  ruddy.  Un- 
deniably her  rouge  had  been  artistically  applied.  Until 
now,  she  had  possessed  an  almost  flawless  imitation 
of  that  bloom  supposed  to  be  inseparable  from  youth. 
It  was  absent  now.  Equally  absent  was  her  usual  im- 
pudence. The  woman  Wrenne  saw  was  a  gray- faced 
woman  of  thirty  or  thereabouts,  scared  out  of  her 
wits  by  some  terrible  threat 

"No,  no;  you  couldn't!  You  wouldn't!"  she  cried 
again  in  crescendo,  her  terror  apparently  increasing 
with  every  syllable.  "Why  I  thought  Americans  and 
Englishmen  never  did  that;  not  to  women!  And 
now!"  Her  hysterical  laugh  lengthened  out  into  a 
scream.  "Oh!  oh,  what  hypocrites  you  are — you — 
you — American  swine!  Oh,  oh!" 

She   covered   her    fear-wracked    face    with   over- 


TWO  DIAMOND  PARROTS  239 

jeweled  fingers  that  writhed  like  gleaming  white  snakes 
in  the  lamplight. 

To  the  debonair  devil-may-care  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Liang  of  the  Imperial  Guard,  Miss  Ysobel  Arling's 
terror  seemed  but  a  bit  of  mediocre  acting.  She  could 
hardly  expect  to  make  use  of  such  a  letter  as  the  one 
his  Chief  had  received  and  expect  to  be  allowed  to 
remain  at  large. 

Sir  Liang  hoped  his  Chief  would  not  be  so  soft  as  to 
let  her  fool  him.  Wrenne  had  always  defiantly  de- 
clared himself  against  the  use  of  women  in  the  ser- 
vice and  now  Liang  could  see  why. 

He  started  to  say  something  of  this  sort: 

"What's  her  little  game,  Colonel?"  he  began. 

Wrenne  silenced  him  with  an  upraised  palm,  con- 
tinuing steadily  to  regard  the  Arling  woman.  He 
knew  her  by  reputation  quite  well.  The  least  she 
could  expect  was  internment  and  deportation.  That, 
unfortunately,  or  otherwise,  was  the  worst  punish- 
ment Anglo-Saxons  of  his  sort  found  it  possible  to 
inflict  upon  women  who  had  not  actually  committed 
capital  crimes. 

But  being  in  love  with  Bess  Courtney  and  afraid 
for  her,  his  awakened  instinct  of  protection  told  him 
what  Sir  Liang  did  not  know.  He  was  certain  that  the 
woman's  terror  was  not  assumed  any  more  than  her 


240   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

continued  shrinkings  from  him.  Why,  then,  did  she 
shrink  from  him? 

Slowly,  as  he  watched  her  cower,  he  reconstructed 
the  exact  situation  of  a  moment  before — remembered 
that  he  had  turned  from  the  Arling  woman  in  agon- 
ized anger.  Well  did  he  know  that  anger  made  an 
extensive,  if  temporary,  alteration  in  his  face.  Once, 
when  enraged  (accidently  again,  if  you  like)  he  had 
seen  himself  in  a  mirror,  and  had  failed  to  recognize 
anything  of  himself  in  the  singular  ferocity  of  those 
mirrored  features.  Then,  presto !  it  had  changed  back 
to  his  own  and  he  had  staggered  back,  first  revolted, 
then  afraid.  .  .  . 

Might  Ysobel  Arling's  terror  not  have  been  due  to 
that?  But  it  needed  more  than  that  to  intimidate  her! 
Why  should  this  pretty,  soulless,  little  creature  of  the 
so-called  "Foreign  Service"  shrink  so  from  him,  her 
body  tense  with  terror? 

Voice,  manner,  appearance;  not  one,  nor  the  com- 
bination either,  no  matter  how  unusually  sinister,  and 
saturnine  or  what  not,  was  enough  in  itself  or  in  its 
combination  to  cause  her  to  cower  like  that.  Had 
they  been  accompanied  by  some  dire  threat,  now !  And 
at  once  he  knew.  He  repeated  the  exact  words  slowly 
again. 

"Colonel,  you  will  take  charge  of  the  prisoner  and 


TWO  DIAMOND  PARROTS  241 

instantly  take  such  severe  measures  as  you  may  deem 
fit  to  insure  an  immediate  compliance  with  my  orders." 

He  paused  where  he  paused  before.  It  was  a  muffled 
moan  that  he  heard  now,  but  it  began  almost  instantly 
to  arise  to  a  hysterical  shriek  again.  Eureka!  His 
surmise  was  the  correct  one. 

Having  previously  assured  himself  that  there  were 
no  mirrors  to  betray  him,  Colonel  the  Mandarin 
Wrenne  deliberately  winked  at  Colonel  the  Mandarin 
Liang-Hiao. 

"You  understand?"  he  demanded,  cryptically. 

But  Sir  Liang-Hiao  did  not  understand. 

"They  have  an  idea,"  pursued  Wrenne,  contemptu- 
ously, "that  we  will  not  torture  women." 

Wrenne,  having  assured  himself  that  Sir  Liang  was 
beginning  to  understand,  studied  her  curiously.  Here 
was  the  secret  to  unlock  her  tongue.  Her  amiable 
associates  were  about  to  be  "hoist  with  their  own 
petard."  Her  mind  had  been  running  upon  torture. 
The  letter  was  written  to  get  him  where  he  could  have 
personal  experience  of  such  inhuman  practices. 

Yes,  it  was  not  only  Bess  who  was  to  be  sacrificed, 
but  himself,  too.  Both  the  Dowager  and  Japan  wanted 
him  out  of  the  way.  And  now  evidently  they  were 
allied. 


242   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

And  now  a  few  unconsidered  words  of  his  had 
put  them  both  wholly  in  his  hands. 

"Sir  Lang,"  he  said  slowly,  "how  long  since  Gor- 
witz  has  been  below  earth?" 

Out  of  the  tail  of  his  eye  he  saw  her  fingers  slowly 
unlock  about  her  face.  Gorwitz,  Wrenne  was  well 
aware,  was  a  Japanese  mystery.  He  had  been  seen 
last  in  Shanghai  one  afternoon  in  company  with  one 
of  the  "ladies"  that  real  ladies  saw  only  on  the  Bub- 
bling Well  Road  in  the  afternoon,  their  nocturnal 
divertisements  automatically  barring  them  from  closer 
acquaintanceship.  And  that  was  the  end  of  Gorwitz 
so  far  as  Tokio  knew. 

Now  Sir  Liang  knew  as  well  as  did  his  chief  how 
Gorwitz  had  died  that  night,  still  resisting  when  the 
last  shot  in  his  Luger  had  been  fired,  for  Gorwitz 
had  stolen  documents.  But  Sir  Liang  had  been  too 
well  trained  not  to  follow  the  spirit  rather  than  the 
actual  words  when  his  Chief  gave  the  lead. 

"In  this  present  prison  place,  you  mean?  Not  quite 
six  months." 

"Quite  evidently  he  must  go  deeper,  then,  eh,  my 
friend?  Our  young  lady  here  shall  take  his  place. 
We  are  in  more  haste  with  her.  With  Gorwitz  we 
could — and  still  can  afford  to  wait." 


TWO  DIAMOND  PARROTS  243 

"No,  no,"  she  moaned,  and  threw  herself  at 
Wrenne's  feet. 

"We  are  in  no  mood  to  waste  mercy  on  you,  Frau- 
lein,"  he  answered  her  harshly.  "That  is  all  very  well 
in  England  and  America  where  we  have  to  fear  ex- 
posure. To  return  to  Gorwitz " 

"He— is— not— dead?" 

Wrenne  shook  his  head. 

"Not  yet.  Or  I  should  say,  'not  quite.'  In  his 
case,  you  will  understand,  we  had  no  cause  to  hurry. 
Your  case  is  utterly  different.  We  will  endeavor  to 
give  you  a  lesson  in  how  skillful  we  can  be — and  in 
so  very  short  a  time  that  you  will  be  quite  willing  to 
tell  us  anything,  anything." 

His  smile  was  so  ghastly  that  she  hid  her  eyes 
again. 

"Take  her  along,  Sir  Liang.  But  first  have  your 
men  tie  and  gag  her." 

When  she  unlocked  her  eyes  at  Liang's  touch, 
Wrenne  still  smiled,  but  with  the  cold,  hard  luminosity 
of  Northern  Lights  upon  an  icy  polar  sea. 

A  fit  of  shuddering  overtook  her. 

"Tell  her,  Liang,"  he  cried,  lying,  like  one  inspired 
to  save  the  woman  he  loved.  "Tell  her  of  the  torture, 
Liang.  Tell  her  what  we  have  done  to  Gorwitz; 
what  we  mean  to  do.  Tell  her  of  the  subterranean 


244   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

cellars  that  have  served  him  for  his  living  tomb.  How 
now  he  lies  in  one  so  deep  and  so  dark  that  the 
miasma  racks  his  very  bone.  How,  even  if  he  had 
his  sight  again,  and  were  brought  to  the  daylight,  the 
first  rays  would  blind  him.  Tell  her  that  for  a  year, 
when  he  still  had  his  sight,  we  allowed  him  not  so 
much  as  a  candle.  Go  on,  tell  her,  Liang." 

But  he  knew,  too,  that  Liang  would  never  be  allowed 
to  tell  his  tale.  As  soon  as  the  woman  recovered 
strength  enough  to  push  herself  up  on  her  flattened 
palms,  the  haggard  face,  out  of  which  looked  eyes 
like  burnt-out  cinders,  that  she  upraised  told  Wrenne 
he  had  won. 

"Why  did  he  not  tell?"  she  gasped. 

"He  went  mad,"  Wrenne  said,  simply. 

"My  God! " 

Hastily,  the  words  overleaping  one  another,  she  told 
him  of  the  place  where  he  would  find  Bess  Courtney, 
adding  with  frantic  voice: 

"Take  a  heavy  guard.  I  want  you  to  be  sure  to 
return.  They  expected  you  alone — by  the  gates.  Go 
by  the  underground  way  and  take  men  enough  to 
protect  you.  Go !  Go !  It  will  not  be  fair  to  torture 
me  because  you  are  so  slow " 

But  Wrenne  interrupted  her  frantic  description. 


TWO  DIAMOND  PARROTS  245 

"Enough ;  no  more  is  necessary." 
"But  to  find  her — and  protect  yourselves." 
"You  are  going  with  us,"  said  Hamilton  Wrenne, 
'then  we  shall  be  sure  that  you  will  tell  us  the  truth." 


CHAPTER  II 
THE  HOUSEHOLD  SQUADRON  RIDES  LATE 

IN  Peking,  as  in  other  great  cities  of  China,  even 
a  score  of  years  ago,  one  could  look  over  one's 
shoulder  and  see  asphalted  boulevards  where  in 
the  show-windows  of  shops  the  latest  song-hits  and 
magazines  from  New  York  and  London  were  dis- 
played, and  others  flaunting  the  "last  cry"  in  the 
modes  the  mannequins  were  then  wearing  in  Paris, 

In  the  morning,  boys  in  cricket-caps  might  have 
been  seen  going  off  to  English  grammar-schools,  wear- 
ing "house"-colors  in  their  striped  neckties;  girls  on 
bicycles  on  their  way  to  seminaries  for  young  ladies; 
dashing  dog-carts  being  taken  back  by  severely  cor- 
rect English  grooms  in  buttoned-leather  leggings  and 
checked  riding-breeches.  Above  the  Legations  the 
flags  of  the  various  white  man's  countries  were  flung 
to  the  breeze.  From  afar  off,  where  the  railroad 
winds  its  way  outside  the  last  of  the  City's  walls,  one 
might  hear  the  toot  of  a  Baldwin  locomotive. 

While  across  the  narrowest,  shortest  sort  of  foot- 
bridge, one  saw,  and  still  doubtless  sees,  the  narrow- 

246 


HOUSEHOLD  SQUADRON  RIDES  LATE     247 

est,  crookedest  sort  of  medieval  thoroughfares  with 
houses  that  sag  toward  one  another  from  either  side 
of  the  street  like  stately  mannered  but  dirty-faced 
dames  of  long  ago.  On  such  a  street  as  this,  in  old 
time  Paris,  Frangois  Villon  found  the  white  in  the 
dead  jade's  stocking.  Through  such  another  in  the 
London  of  the  Lollards,  Jack  Straw  led  his  horde  of 
Kentish  rebels  after  Wat  Tyler  fell. 

But  although  it  was  the  first  decade  of  the  twentieth 
century  of  Christian  civilization,  Hamilton  Wrenne 
led  his  horde  through  a  street  quite  as  crooked,  quite 
as  dirty,  quite  as  medieval.  And  behind  him  rode  a 
crew  quite  as  picturesque  as  any  whose  horses'  hoofs 
ever  rattled  over  the  cobbles  of  Armagnac  France,  or 
Burgundian,  behind  some  stark  commander  of  free 
companions. 

Greater  China  was  well  represented  in  these  troopers, 
known,  somewhat  satirically,  as  the  Household  Squad- 
ron of  the  Imperial  Guard.  They  were  as  picked  a  lot 
of  Berserkers  as  ever  the  Varangians  were.  Melan- 
cholily-mustached  Tartars,  Mongols  high  of  cheek- 
bone and  almost  noseless,  flat-faced  Chinese,  but  chiefly 
strapping  six-foot  Manchus  from  that  province  of 
which  Sir  Liang's  line  had  long  been  the  princes. 

At  the  head  of  the  column  rode  Wrenne,  in  his  uni- 
form of  Imperial  yellow,  golden-frogged,  his  crucifix 


248   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

hilted  sword  held  in  place  by  jeweled  belt  and  a  golden 
lanyard  over  one  shoulder.  Through  an  opening  in  his 
hastily  donned  tunic  where  a  button  had  not  been  fas- 
tened, there  was  the  glint  of  steel,  a  shirt  of  steel  mail 
of  goldsmith's  links  so  fine  that  it  could  be  crumpled 
into  a  mere  handful.  Another  of  his  military  cloaks 
bellied  out  behind  him  as  he  rode,  companioning  the 
drooping  peacock's  feather  of  his  Mandarin's  cap. 

Sir  Liang,  who  rode  beside  him  was  similarly  accou- 
tered.  And  save  that  their  caps  were  of  the  humble 
black  silk  sort  with  red  coral  buttons,  and  they  wore 
Mongolian  boots  of  soft  glove-leather  instead  of  the 
glistening  patent  leather  of  their  chiefs,  so  were  the 
others  of  the  Cavalcade. 

It  was  about  the  same  time  that  Bess  Courtney 
awakened  in  that  lofty  room  in  the  Pleasure  City,  that 
this  troop  rode  out  to  save  her.  And  when  they  paused 
at  the  top  of  the  first  hill  out  of  the  city  it  would  have 
seemed  to  anyone  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  that  the  moon 
had  crept  slowly  from  behind  the  clouds  to  hang  sus- 
pended over  their  heads  like  a  great  silver-bright 
aureole. 

In  its  light  it  was  apparent  that  not  two  horsemen, 
but  three  rode  at  the  head  of  the  column;  for,  on  the 
hill-top,  when  Wrenne  and  Sir  Liang  detached  them- 
selves from  the  others  and  turned  their  horses  sheerly 


HOUSEHOLD  SQUADRON  RIDES  LATE     249 

to  the  right-about  like  reviewing  officers,  a  smaller  fig- 
ure was  to  be  seen  between  them.  It  was  the  woman 
known  as  Ysobel  Arling,  now  boyish  in  shape  and  size, 
for  she  wore  a  man's  habiliments.  It  was  she  who 
called  the  halt  and  had  pointed  out  the  way  by  which 
they  would  reach  their  destination. 

Clatter,  clatter,  clatter!  .  .  .  Thump,  thump, 
thump !  .  .  .  Pad,  pad,  pad ! 

And  always  the  moon  seemed  just  overhead  and 
ahead,  always  climbing  aloft  and  away.  Until  they 
came  to  the  high  hills,  their  shadows  like  those  of 
great  centaurs  lay  black  on  the  silver  white  road  before 
them. 

And  at  last  when  they  were  as  near  to  the  walls  of 
the  Pleasure  Palace  as  they  dared  go,  Wrenne,  his 
heart  thumping  hard  against  his  ribs,  had  ordered 
them  to  dismount  and  hide  their  horses  in  the  under- 
growth below  the  crest  of  the  last  hill. 

This  having  been  discreetly  accomplished,  and  the 
horses  tethered  in  a  little  thicket,  Wrenne  wrapped 
himself  in  his  all-enveloping  cloak  and  directed  the 
others  to  follow  his  example.  He  and  Liang  discarded 
their  caps  with  the  peacock's  feathers  and  drew  the 
hood  of  their  caps  low  on  their  foreheads,  and  high 
above  their  chins  like  monks'  cowls.  Their  officers, 
captains,  lieutenants  and  sergeants  (they  had  no 


250   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

majors  or  corporals  in  the  Household  Guards)  passed 
the  word  on  to  the  men,  until  all  were  completely  en- 
veloped, only  their  eyes  and  ankles  visible. 

Before  giving  further  commands,  Wrenne  sum- 
moned his  officers  to  a  council.  Crouched  in  the  under- 
brush, he  outlined  briefly  the  reason  for  the  expedition 
and  the  necessity  for  someone  to  remain  behind  whose 
honor  was  impregnable  against  such  assaults  as  heavy 
bribes. 

"To  see  that  our  hostage  does  not  escape  paying  the 
penalty.  Should  she  have  mis-informed  us  and  should 
we  fail,  someone  must  guard  her,  must  remain  alive  to 
carry  her  back  to  Peking." 

The  slender  figure  which  even  in  cape  and  cowl 
stood  out  among  so  stalwart  a  crew,  pushed  her  way 
to  Wrenne's  head. 

"I  won't  be  left:  I  won't,"  she  announced  fran- 
tically. "Let  me  go  with  you.  How  else  can  you  find 
the  secret  way?" 

"And  have  you  lead  us  directly  into  a  trap,  that,  as  it 
snaps  on  us,  releases  you,"  asked  Wrenne  harshly. 

"And  if  you  fail  because  I  have  not  shown  it  to  you, 
you  leave  me  here  to  be  mercilessly  punished  for  what 
was  not  my  fault.  No !  Have  a  man  at  my  back  with 
a  knife."  she  suggested  fiercely.  "Let  him  kill  me  the 
moment  there  is  treachery.  That  would  ensure  my 


HOUSEHOLD  SQUADRON  RIDES  LATE     251 

death  before  I  could  get  free.  Wouldn't  it?"  But 
although  Wrenne  had  brought  himself  to  psychic 
threats,  actually  he  was  loath  to  expose  a  woman  to 
physical  dangers.  Above  all  things,  however,  she  must 
not  guess  this.  So  again  he  refused,  giving  his  lack  of 
faith  in  her  as  his  reason  .  .  .  "so  knowing  your 
ground  so  much  better  than  we,  you  might  escape 
before  we  knew  where  we  were.  I  dare  not  take  you 
too  near." 

"Oh  you  are  unfair,  unfair,"  she  sobbed,  stamping 
her  foot  again.  "Don't  you  see  you  might  be  unlucky 
— might  not  return?  And  then,  no  matter  if  I  had 
done  my  best  or  no,  your  men  would  drag  me  back! 
No !  I  have  said  my  last  word.  I  go  with  you.  Other- 
wise you  may  kill  me  but  I  will  not  point  out  from  here 
how  you  may  reach  the  palace  by  the  shortest  way." 

Thsang,  Color-Bearer  and  Regimental  Sergeant- 
Major  by  right  of  being  the  biggest  thewed  and  might- 
iest-muscled Manchu  of  the  lot,  pushed  his  way  toward 
Sir  Liang,  saluted  and  spoke  in  English: 

"Your  permission  to  speak  to  the  Colonel,  Exalted 
One?"  and  turning  to  Wrenne  added;  "Sir,  you  have 
men  here  whom  you  have  seen  in  hazardous  service. 
We  are  a  picked  lot  of  a  picked  lot.  Most  of  our 
squadron  will  be  practically  devoid  of  non-commis- 
sioned officers.  Half  our  commissioned  officers  are 


252   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

here  besides.  How  might  one  of  us  dare  show  his  face 
among  his  inferiors  in  rank  and  service  and  say  that 
we  had  remained  safely  out  of  the  conflict  while  our 
colonels,  our  captains  and  our  brother-sergeants  and 
troopers  were  massacred.  Do  not  give  us  a  choice  be- 
tween cowardice  and  insubordination,  sir?" 

He  saluted  and  stepped  back  to  his  place. 

"And  while  you  waste  time  here,"  said  Ysobel 
Arling  passionately,  "this  lady  you  love  may  be " 

Wrenne's  strangled  bellow  of  rage  was  in  keeping 
with  the  fierce  fire  in  his  eyes. 

"Forward,"  he  commanded  hoarsely.  "Deploy  .  .  . 
as  skirmishers  .  .  .  advance  seeking  shelter." 

He  added  other  orders,  selecting  their  point  of 
meeting  as  Ysobel  Arling  picked  it  out  through  his 
night-glasses.  And  then,  when  the  others  had  gone 
on  hands  and  knees  up  and  over  the  crest  of  the  hill, 
so  that  they  would  have  been  in  sight  of  the  watchers 
on  the  ramparts,  had  they  gone  erect,  Wrenne's  fingers 
sought  the  woman's  shoulder  in  such  a  grip  she  could 
have  screamed.  But  she  did  not. 

"Go  before  me.    As  they  have  done.    And  hurry !" 

The  undergrowth  swallowed  them  up.  As  Wrenne 
advanced,  he  found  that  the  stalwart  Thsang  awaited 
him  on  the  lowest  slopes  and  from  there  on  was  never 
more  than  a  pace  or  so  away  from  the  Arling  woman. 


HOUSEHOLD  SQUADRON  RIDES  LATE     253 

They  were  in  sight  now  of  the  red  walls  that  rose 
about  the  Pleasure  City — walls  once  red,  rather  cherry- 
pink  now.  .  .  . 

From  where  he  crouched  and  crawled,  Wrenne 
could  see  the  watch-fires  on  the  walls,  watchers  in 
watch-towers,  guards  on  duty,  right,  left,  right,  left — 
patrolling  stiffly  to  and  fro. 

Ysobel  Arling  touched  his  arm. 

"There,"  she  said.  "In  that  grove  of  ylang-ylang 
trees.  Some  of  your  men  are  missing  it." 

"Thsang,"  he  directed,"  your  signal." 

The  low  shrill  notes  of  the  N.C.O.'s  whistle,  swing- 
ing ever  from  a  lanyard  from  one  of  his  shoulder- 
straps,  summoned  those  who  had  taken  the  wrong 
turning.  Minute  by  minute,  one  stalwart  after  another 
crept  silently  from  the  chaparral  into  the  little  grove 
of  ylang-ylangs,  cedars  and  cypresses,  in  the  center 
of  which  stood  a  burnished  Buddha  in  its  shrine,  one 
of  the  four  protectors  of  the  Pleasure  City. 

The  woman  did  not  wait  for  the  entire  squadron 
to  crowd  it. 

"Lift  it,"  she  commanded.  "The  secret  way  lies 
beneath  the  shrine.  Knowing  no  native  would  dare 
touch  the  Buddha  save  in  reverence,  the  Queen-Mother 
deemed  this  way  impregnable.  And  doubtless  it  would 
have  been  had  I  not  believed  in  the  hypocritical  honor 


254   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

of  the  Anglo-Saxons  who  never  torture  women — if 
they  are  apt  to  be  found  out.  God!  How  I  hate 
you." 

"Hate  away,"  returned  Wrenne,  grimly.  "But  be 
careful  not  to  betray.  Thsang !  You  are  a  Moham- 
medan. Lift  the  Buddha  from  its  place." 

The  big  Manchu  strained  his  muscles.  The  squat, 
bland-featured  Buddha  was  indeed  a  test  of  strength. 
Thsang  lifted  it  with  all  reverence  into  the  shadows, 
while  Wrenne  exerted  all  his  strength  to  slide  back 
the  copper-sheathed  slab  beneath  it.  A  wide  passage- 
way yawned  below,  step  after  step  cut  out  of  the 
chalky  hillside. 

When  Sir  Liang  had  called  the  muster-roll  and  all 
had  answered,  the  signal  was  given  and  the  men  crept 
slowly  to  the  shrine,  leaped  the  barrier  and  began  to 
descend  the  spiral  stairway.  But  before  their  feet 
touched  the  second  step,  each  man's  hand  was  gripped 
by  that  of  their  Colonel's  and  held  while  Wrenne 
said  "Good-by."  At  no  other  time  did  any  of  them 
remember  it  to  have  been  so  husky  as  it  was  now. 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  SECRET  STAIRWAY 

"  1"  1"  ERE,  here,"  whispered  the  Arling  woman 
\      I       out  of  a  dry  throat.     "Here — feel  along 
the    walls — sliding    walls.      Quietly,    for 
God's  sake." 

It  seemed  to  Wrenne  that  they  had  traveled  miles 
since  they  descended  into  subterranea.  The  spiral 
stairway  seemed  to  run  on  forever ;  miles  in  and  miles 
out  of  empty  tunneling  that  never  followed  a  straight 
line.  Built  so,  he  imagined.  For  in  case  of  a  hostile 
invasion,  were  its  secret  betrayed,  each  abutment  would 
give  shelter  to  a  squad  of  rifle-men.  At  some  points 
there  was  room  enough  for  a  machine-gun.  Finally 
he  confirmed  this  idea  by  flashing  his  torch  upward 
above  an  abutment  or  two  and  saw  imbedded  in  the 
chalk  a  tile  of  red  porcelain  with  ideographs  repre- 
senting several  numerals  burned  into  it. 

Being  the  invading  hostiles  themselves,  never  know- 
ing what  might  be  around  the  next  corner,  Wrenne 
kept  his  men  in  double  file  formation,  a  man  to  each 
wall,  and  two  paces  apart. 

255 


256   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

Nothing  happened,  however.  Soon  they  had  be- 
come so  accustomed  to  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  ground, 
the  swerving  from  right  to  left,  that  those  who  car- 
ried the  pocket-torches  were  approximating  automa- 
tically the  position  in  which  to  hold  them  so  that  the 
light  would  fall  always  in  the  center  of  the  unlit 
space  before  them.  And  all  the  while  they  ran  with 
that  steady  even  paddling  of  the  feet  that  betokens 
the  trained  athlete. 

Several  times  the  last  squad  had  been  forced  to 
halt  impatiently  for  Ysobel  Arling's  feebler  feet  to 
follow  Thsang.  Then  the  giant  Manchu  swung  her 
up  to  his  shoulders  and  bade  her  straddle  his  neck 
as  if  he  were  a  horse.  She  refused  angrily,  her  face 
flushing. 

"Then  I  shall  throw  you  over  my  back  like  a  sack 
and  carry  you  by  your  feet,"  he  threatened  calmly. 

Wrenne  and  Sir  Liang  were  well  ahead  and  those 
nearby  only  grinned.  So  she  had  no  course  but  con- 
sent. After  that  they  went  on  steadily,  swiftly  as 
the  others. 

After  the  first  flight  of  stairs  had  been  reached  and 
Thsang  set  her  down  (remaining  close  to  her  elbow, 
however),  she  saw  him  several  times  in  the  light  of 
the  torches,  whetting  the  broad  blade  of  his  bayonet- 
knife  against  a  horny  palm  or  testing  it  with  his 


THE  SECRET  STAIRWAY  257 

thumb.  Whenever  he  saw  her  looking  toward  him 
he  did  this  and  grinned  at  her.  .  .  .  When  she  was 
looking  elsewhere  the  trench-knife  hung  in  its  place 
by  another  lanyard  from  his  other  shoulder. 


It  was  well  for  Wrenne  that  at  the  Pleasure  Palace 
they  turned  night  into  day.  Many  of  those  who  were 
not  holding  wassail  in  the  little  arbors  with  which 
the  gardens  were  dotted,  were  watching  the  sing- 
song girls  hold  revel  hidden  among  the  scented  groves. 

But  by  far  the  greater  number,  having  chosen  their 
brides  of  the  night,  in  the  pavilions,  were  wandering 
arm  in  arm  with  them  in  the  groves  or  sat  on  the 
rustic  bridges  by  the  moonlit  stream  that  dashed  over 
rocky  defiles  and  dropped  headlong  from  the  hills, 
making  their  brides'  better  acquaintance.  The  major- 
ity of  the  majority,  however,  had  betaken  themselves 
to  their  quarters  where  everything  had  been  arranged 
in  the  interests  of  what  they  doubtless  denominated 
"love." 

Here,  each  noble  guest  of  the  Dowager  had  in  his 
suite  a  central  court  where  on  one  side  perfumed 
waters  from  a  fountain  gushed  forth  from  the  mouth 
of  some  naked  male  figure  in  some  one  of  the  pos- 
tures of  Oriental  "love."  Back  to  back  with  him  was 


258   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

a  naked  female  figure  holding  a  great  lamp  of  deli- 
cately colored  rock  crystal  over  which  another  jet 
of  water  was  diffused  in  clouds  of  perfumed  spray, 
so  delicate  that  it  was  barely  more  than  a  mist.  As 
it  crossed  the  closed  lantern,  as  beautifully  carved  as 
it  was  colored,  the  mist  became  as  roseated  in  hue  as 
it  was  delicately  perfumed.  So  that  the  circular  court 
was  both  lit  and  perfumed  by  one  roseately  colored 
"lamp  of  Love." 

The  cascade  that  fell  from  the  male  figure's  mouth 
and  the  spray  that  dripped  from  the  female  creature's 
lap  both  joined  together  in  the  circular  pool  below 
where  its  delicious  warmth  was  retained  by  pipes  at 
the  bottom  gushing  forth  hot  water.  Couches  cov- 
ered with  piles  of  wondrously  colored  cushions  stood 
on  either  side  of  the  pool,  and  some  of  the  unfor- 
tunate male  eunuchs  and  female  slaves  whom  Bess 
Courtney  had  seen  in  the  tower-chamber  were  on  hand 
attired  only  in  breech-clouts,  to  serve  the  coldest  of 
sweet-scented  sherberts,  or  the  hottest  of  hot  cups 
of  tea,  lumps  of  sticky  sugar,  whitened  figs  and  mar- 
rons,  candied  melons,  preserved  ginger,  and  Turkish 
delight.  Others,  when  the  Mandarin  and  his  maid 
had  concluded  their  languid  floating  about  in  the  per- 
fumed pool,  waited  to  annoint,  knead  and  massage 
their  bodies  with  fragrant  oils. 


THE  SECRET  STAIRWAY  259 

While  others  again,  the  most  important  these — 
graver  folk  in  spotless  white  robes  and  sandaled  feet 
— awaited  in  a  sort  of  silken  tent  nearby,  just  wide 
enough  for  the  Mandarin  to  lie  at  length  on  the  couch, 
his  head  on  piles  of  cushions,  with  his  maid's  shining 
hair  within  reach  of  his  hand,  while  opposite  sat  the 
man  and  women  in  white;  one  to  prepare  the  next 
pill  of  opium  while  the  other  applied  the  one  previ- 
ously prepared  to  the  clay  blowl  of  the  great  bamboo 
pipe,  and  held  it  to  the  Mandarin's  lips — or  the  maid's. 

This  man  knew  just  how  much  or  how  little  was 
needed  for  the  euphoria  in  each  and  everyone.  He 
watched  their  eyes,  their  lips,  the  movement  of  their 
hands.  To  give  too  much  or  too  little  was  fatal.  To 
make  a  mistake  in  amount  needed,  to  mistake  and  give 
pain  instead  of  pleasure,  might  mean  his  death  were 
the  guest  so  influential  a  noble  that  the  spoiled  evening 
of  pleasure  disarranged  the  plans  of  the  slave's  mis- 
tress, the  Dowager. 

For  it  was  her  experience  that  wisdom  departed 
from  men  properly  drugged  with  sweets  and  scents 
and  soporifics.  And  of  all,  the  last  was  the  most 
important;  the  opium  euphoria  which  gave  all  things 
the  appearance  of  beauty  and  even  the  most  mercenary 
of  sex-satisfaction  the  divinity  of  love. 


260   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

In  such  a  place  as  this  there  must  be  necessarily 
few  watchers  to  remind  the  guests  they  were  under 
guard. 

So  such  attendants  as  there  were,  in  halls  and  pas- 
sages were  but  poor  weak  things,  servants  rather  than 
guards.  Before  Wrenne  and  his  men  had  been  in 
the  palace  more  than  a  few  odd  moments,  ten  of  the 
Pleasure  Guardians  had  died  in  the  dark.  Nor  known 
how  they  had  died,  so  silently  and  stealthily  had  they 
been  stalked  by  those  crouching  tigers,  Thsang  and 
the  like.  When  Wrenne  found  out  how  harmless 
they  were,  he  gave  orders  that  no  knives  were  to  be 
used  but  that  the  poor  painted  sexless  folk  should  be 
mercifully  stunned  with  brass  pistol  butts.  For  Ysobel 
Arling  had  opened  the  mouth  of  a  dead  guard  and 
showed  him  that  the  poor  sexless  creature  was  dumb. 
And,  when  Wrenne's  rage  made  him  speechless,  and 
she  faltered  out  some  of  the  details  of  the  devilish  sur- 
gery that  had  made  the  poor  painted  eunuch  sexless  as 
well  as  dumb,  and  not  always  from  birth,  he  realized 
from  her  terror-stricken  tones  something  of  the  full 
enormity  of  what  was  planned  for  Bess  if  she  stood 
stanch. 

It  was  then  he  became  a  raging  madman.  Yet 
withal  he  did  not  forget  he  was  a  military  commander. 
.  .  .  Now,  holding  two  stairways,  none  might  ap- 


THE  SECRET  STAIRWAY  261 

proach  or  depart  from  the  pagoda-roofed  tower.  The 
tower  overlooked  all  points  of  the  Pleasure  City 
and  was  its  inner  mystery  of  mysteries.  And  Liang- 
Hiao,  having  heard  Ysobel  Arling  falteringly  ex- 
plain, whispered  to  Wrenne  as  he  stood  on  its  stairs 
tales  of  the  scientific  atrocities  that  kept  from  its 
vicinage  all  not  peremptorily  ordered  to  attend  there. 

"Smite  and  spare  not,"  said  the  Manchu  Chief  in 
the  native  tongue.  "Men  or  women — none  are  inno- 
cent here.  Remember  the  poor  painted  folk  and  spare 
none.  I  will  hold  the  stairs.  None  shall  interfere 
with  justice.  Even  if  it  is  the  old  She- Wolf  herself — 
smite  and  spare  not." 

He  saluted  and  went  noiselessly  down  the  stairs. 

The  thought  of  the  pitifully  painted  mouths  that 
concealed  such  malformity  stirred  Wrenne  to  insen- 
sate fury.  Jerking  at  jeweled  belt  and  golden  lan- 
yard, he  tore  his  sword  from  its  sheath  of  soft  leather. 
It  was  the  straightest  of  stark  blades,  razor-keen  of 
point.  Cut  like  a  diamond  with  numberless  facets,  it 
had  two  razor-keen  cutting  edges,  and  stiletto-like 
murderous  point  besides.  Did  that  point  but  enter 
a  man's  body  the  veriest  child's  weight  behind  it  might 
make  an  end  of  him.  With  this  in  his  hand  Wrenne 
tore  up  the  stairs. 

The    huge    Manchu,    Thsang,    followed,    herding 


262   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

Ysobel  Arling  who  shrank  before  his  grinning  face 
and  drawn  knife. 

Now  outside  the  lofty  room  at  the  top  of  the 
pagoda-roofed  tower;  now  that  they  were  so  nearly 
at  the  end  of  their  quest,  she  gasped  in  silent  terror 
as  she  felt  Thsang's  hot  breath  against  the  nape  of 
her  neck.  They  stood  in  the  hall,  through  the  painted 
doors  of  which  the  painted  people  had  poured  that 
Bess  might  see  how  the  She-Devil  treated  her  slaves. 

The  doors  were  shut,  the  hall  dark  now.  Even 
though  the  Arling  woman  knew  every  foot,  she 
stumbled  like  a  child  in  the  dark,  afraid.  Within  was 
he  whose  fiendishly  cruel  punishment  she  knew  she 
must  expect  for  her  treachery  unless  he  himself  was 
killed.  Without  was  the  grinning  Thsang  and  that 
personification  of  raging  fury — Black  Wrenne. 

"God  damn  their  souls,"  he  gnashed  out  between 
teeth  grinding  together.  "Open  the  lattice;  open  the 
lattice." 

But  the  woman's  fingers  palsied  with  fear  made 
impossible  her  finding  and  manipulating  the  hidden 
spring.  His  diamond  keen  sword,  held  bent  between 
his  two  tense,  trembling,  gauntleted  hands,  touched 
by  some  sheer  instinct  the  place  where  the  door  should 
be  and  it  flew  straight  again. 

"Thsang,  the  torch,"  he  muttered.     The  Manchu's 


THE  SECRET  STAIRWAY  263 

eyes  followed  the  blade,  silver  white  in  the  light  of 
the  electric  torch,  and  thrust  his  broad-bladed  knife 
between  the  panels.  A  rending,  splintering  sound  fol- 
lowed the  pressure  of  his  body  upon  the  thick  strong 
steel.  As  the  panel  was  forced  outward,  Wrenne 
thrust  the  torch  and  the  crucifix  hilt  of  his  sword  into 
Ysobel  Arling's  hands  and  caught  the  outward  bent 
panel  with  both  hands. 

The  broad-bladed  knife  was  thrust  into  its  sheaf 
and  to  the  weight  of  Wrenne's  body  and  the  force 
of  his  hands  was  added  the  terrific  power  of  the 
Manchu  giant's  thews  and  sinews.  His  tight  military 
tunic  was  rent  apart  and  fell  loose  in  two  torn  strips 
from  his  shoulder-blades.  Almost  at  the  same  time 
the  panel  snapped  with  a  sound  like  a  bomb  exploding. 
It  exposed  a  space  large  enough  for  Thsang  to  push 
the  girl  through  into  the  darkness.  She  had  just 
enough  strength  left  to  point  Wrenne's  torch  toward 
the  sable  curtains  that  covered  the  folding-doors  be- 
yond. Wrenne  leaped  in  after  her  and  seized  his 
sword  from  her  hand.  Thsang  was  quick  enough  to 
seize  the  torch  before  she  collapsed  and  they  heard 
her  body  thud  on  something  soft,  then  all  was  quite 
still. 

Not  for  long,  however.  This  second  noise  was  too 
noticeable  for  those  within  to  ignore.  The  lattice- 


264   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

like  doors  of  the  inner  room  slid  back.  At  the  sound 
of  movement  behind  them,  Thsang's  torch  snapped 
out. 

The  face  of  Sugiyama  appeared  between  the  sable 
curtains.  Instantly  he  dropped  to  his  knees  and  dis- 
appeared. Wrenne's  eyes  followed  him  mechanically 
almost,  if  only  to  forget  what  the  opening  doors  had 
revealed :  a  thing  of  horror.  The  operating  table  .  .  . 
a  white-clad  surgeon  in  a  hospital  gaberdine,  opposite 
him,  a  skeleton-thin  man  in  a  blue-linen  belted  robe. 
Both  had  cruel  high  cheek-boned  Tartar  faces.  The 
male  nurse  held  fast  to  an  anesthesia  cap,  pressing  it 
down  hard  upon  an  upturned  face.  .  .  .  Almost 
touching  her,  his  face  bent  low,  leaned  the  gaberdined 
Tartar,  the  glint  of  the  operating  light  upon  a  thin 
slice  of  shining  steel.  Apparently  only  Sugiyama  had 
suspected — and  feared.  .  .  . 

It  had  been  some  time  since  Bess  had  recovered 
consciousness  to  find  herself  lying  on  the  operating- 
table  and  to  have  Sugiyama  explain  what  they  meant 
to  do.  They  had  no  desire  to  make  her  like  one  of 
the  painted  folk  she  had  seen.  But — unless  she  gave 
up  the  keys.  .  .  . 

Thsang  heard  the  muffled  sob  of  his  Chief,  the 
only  man — or  woman  for  that  matter — who  had  ever 
won  the  fierce  affection  of  this  human  bull-dog.  He 


THE  SECRET  STAIRWAY  265 

plucked  out  the  heavy,  brass-butted  pistol  of  the  same 
name,  and  snarling  animal-fashion  through  his  bared 
fangs,  let  it  bark  twice.  Before  they  had  realized  the 
danger  in  the  disappearance  of  Sugiyama  the  scalpel 
fell  from  the  surgeon's  hand,  the  conical  cap  from 
that  of  the  male  nurse.  He  followed  his  cap  to  the 
floor  where  he  lay  face  downward.  From  his  hair 
there  crept  something  like  a  dark  and  aimless  snake, 
thin  at  first  but  growing  thicker  as  it  grew  longer, 
zig-zagging  across  the  polished  floor. 

As  for  the  Tartar  surgeon,  he  still  held  himself 
stiffly  erect,  staring.  But  Thsang's  "bull-dog"  barked 
for  the  third  time  within  the  minute  and  he  fell  on 
his  knees,  then,  like  a  jack-in-the-box,  shot  up,  col- 
lapsed and  fell  over  backwards  against  the  operating 
light.  It  crashed  over  with  him,  leaving  the  room  in 
darkness  again. 

Wrenne  had  not  moved  a  muscle  nor  blinked  an 
eye  since  Thsang  had  heard  him  sob  when  he  saw 
Bess  lying  there.  His  eyes,  had  not  the  kindly  dark- 
ness hidden  them,  would  have  seemed  as  dead  as  the 
surgeon's,  so  utterly  expressionless  was  their  stare. 
Now,  like  a  corpse  galvanized,  he  moved  swiftly, 
almost  as  if  he  saw  in  the  dark.  One  knee  bent  for- 
ward, his  left  leg  bent  back  diagonally,  his  left  arm 
parallel  with  it,  the  hand  flat  against  the  hip — the 


266   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

swordsman's  posture — Wrenne  lunged  and  the  dia- 
mond-pointed many-faceted  sword  met  human  flesh 
in  its  way  and  pierced  it  through.  The  thrust  had 
met  the  breast  of  Sugiyama,  kneeling  in  the  dark- 
ness, crouched  ready  to  spring,  and  who  now  tumbled 
back  with  an  inch  or  so  of  cold  steel  protruding  from 
his  shoulder. 

Sugiyama  never  had  the  chance  to  use  his  own 
weapon.  As  Wrenne's  sword  was  withdrawn,  his  claw- 
ing hands  fastened  savagely  about  his  antagonist's 
knees  and  brought  him  tumbling  down  atop  of  him. 
Sugiyama  writhed,  blood  pouring  from  his  wound. 
The  butt  of  the  automatic  he  carried  thrust  in  his  high 
waistband  beneath  his  loose  robes,  had  deflected  the 
sword-point  from  a  vital  part.  But  weak  as  he  was 
from  the  loss  of  blood  he  had  done  the  worst  thing 
lor  himself — brought  to  close  quarters  a  foe  whom  the 
sight  of  Bess  had  robbed  of  all  desire  to  live,  who 
had  but  one  desire — to  kill. 

To  this  end  he  had  shortened  his  sword  even  as 
he  fell,  and  now,  while  Sugiyama,  seeing  his  mistake 
too  late,  tugged  at  his  automatic,  Wrenne's  diamond- 
faceted  sword,  handled  like  the  stiletto  its  point  so 
much  resembled,  drove  downward  through  thews  and 
sinews,  flesh  and  bone,  and  the  sanguinary  flood  that 


THE  SECRET  STAIRWAY  267 

stained  his  hand  gushed  from  a  heart  that  had  stopped 
beating. 

Then,  mechanically,  still  as  if  he  saw  in  the  dark, 
he  moved  toward  the  operating  table  and  took  the 
senseless  girl  in  his  arms.  Thsang,  yet  to  know  who 
had  conquered,  flashed  on  the  light  and  saw  his  chief 
as  he  kissed  her  lips.  They  were  cold,  icy  cold.  He 
dared  not  open  them.  Another  broken  sob  forced 
itself  through  his  clenched  teeth. 

"Take  her,  Thsang,"  he  sobbed.  "The  other  man 
is  in  this  room.  Let  me  kill  him,  let  me  kill  him — 
my — self.  Take  her  to  Peking — take  her  away.  I 
trust  you,  Thsang.  Leave  the  others.  Take  her  safely 
to  Peking — if  you  love  me." 

"One  moment,  my  Colonel,"  answered  Thsang,  and 
as  tenderly  as  any  woman,  the  big  Manchu  motioned 
his  Chief  to  hold  the  girl  in  his  arms  while  he  climbed 
through  the  broken  panel.  Then  he  took  her  from 
him  and  gave  him  the  electric  torch. 

"But,"  demanded  Thsang  in  his  native  tongue,  for- 
getting his  English  in  his  emotion,  "you — what  will 
you  do?" 

Wrenne  answered  him  dully  in  the  same  language. 
"Make  sure  no  one  is  left  alive  in  this  tower.  Only 
then  shall  I  know  peace,  if — if " 

But  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  voice  his  fears. 


268        DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

He  dared  not  admit  even  to  himself  that  he  may 
have  been  too  late !  And  if  so,  Bess — Bess — no !  He 
dared  not! 

His  hands  gripped  the  muscles  of  the  big  Manchu's 
shoulder. 

Thsang's  voice  was  husky  as  he  muttered  his  fare- 
wells and  stumbled  toward  the  stairs. 


CHAPTER  IV 
THROUGH  THE  PEKING  GATES  AGAIN 

DAY  broke  on  a  gray  world.  What  little  light 
struggled  sullenly  through  masses  of  sullen 
clouds  outlined  the  long  weary  road  back 
home,  which  might  never  have  been  a  moon-path  for 
the  little  it  looked  like  one  now.  A  storm  had  broken 
since  they  passed  that  way  and  the  great  North  Road 
into  Peking  was  littered  with  saplings,  bushes  and 
branches  of  bigger  trees  sticky  with  sap.  The  road 
itself  was  one  great  morass  filthy  with  the  long-laid 
odors  of  yesteryear.  .  .  .  Through  this  the  horses  of 
VVrenne's  troopers  picked  their  way  wearily. 

They  must  have  gone  slowly,  however,  whether  they 
willed  it  or  not,  for  besides  the  drugged  body  of 
Bess,  two  of  Thsang's  brothers  carried,  across  cantle 
of  saddle  and  in  crook  of  bridle  arm,  two  of  their 
wounded  companions,  who,  having  reached  the  limit 
of  endurance  were  entirely  unconsciousness  of  their 
rescuer's  arms.  .  .  .  Others,  whose  hurts  had  not 


270   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

been  as  serious,  envied  them  this,  at  least.  For  every 
thud  of  their  mounts  meant  misery. 

A  far  different  company  this  from  those  gasconad- 
ing cavaliers  who  had  come  forth  to  conquer  only  a 
few  hours  ago.  Bedraggled,  spiritless,  dull-eyed,  re- 
duced in  numbers,  with  many  more  wounded,  their 
desire  for  rest,  sleep  and  food  approached  mania. 

There  had  been  an  unexpected  attack  upon  their 
exit  from  subterranea,  an  ambush  of  the  Pleasure 
City's  guards.  Man  to  man,  superiority  aside,  it  must 
be  remembered  that  only  two  at  a  time  could  ascend 
the  spiral  stairway.  So  that  before  there  had  been 
mustered  a  sufficient  quota  to  withstand  successfuly 
so  sudden  and  surprising  an  attack  by  twice  their 
numbers,  many  of  the  earlier  ones  to  emerge  lay  life- 
less near  the  shrine.  .  .  . 

Death.  .  .  .  Death  .  .  .  death. 

Wherever  Wrenne's  mind  wandered  on  that  dull 
gray  morning  he  seemed  to  hear  the  whirring  of  the 
Omi-Angel's  sable  wings.  .  .  . 

The  Lieutenant-Colonel  of  the  Manchu  mercenaries, 
the  chivalrous  Sir  Liang,  knew  the  prayer  of  his  chief 
had  so  long  disallowed  his  lips. 

"I  suffer  every  pang  with  you,  very  dear  friend  of 
mine,"  said  this  Chinese  gentleman,  and  the  two 
friends  gripped  hands.  Liang's  face  was  as  impassive 


THROUGH  PEKING  GATES  AGAIN       271 

as  ever,  but  there  was  that  note  in  his  voice  that  could 
neither  be  assumed  nor  successfully  imitated.  And 
there  had  been  few  who  had  called  it  forth. 

But  at  last  their  horses'  hoofs  rattled  on  the  bridge 
and  under  the  high  pagoda-ed  roof  of  the  Great  Gate 
of  Peking.  And  when  Wrenne  dismounted  from  his 
horse  at  the  hotel  and  took  Bess  from  the  arms  of 
Thsang,  Sir  Lang  drew  up  his  men,  their  sabers  at 
salute  as  he  passed  from  among  them. 

He  turned  and  faced  them.  "Thank  you,  my 
friends,"  he  said,  brokenly. 


CHAPTER  V 
BY  HER  BEDSIDE 

AN  hour  later,  the  doctors  having  long  since 
y^  gathered  at  her  side,  Wrenne  sat  outside  Bess* 
door  shivering  in  the  shadows.  Finally  un- 
able to  bear  the  torture  of  waiting  any  longer,  he 
opened  the  door  softly  and  went  in.  A  shaded  light 
on  a  night  table  (the  curtains  were  drawn)  showed 
the  girl's  pale  face  among  the  pillows. 

How  little  and  frail,  fragile  and  perfect,  she  looked 
lying  there,  the  curling  lashes  of  her  tightly  locked 
eyes  like  silken  brush  strokes  of  some  marvelous 
painter;  her  locked  lips,  too,  the  pale  crimson  of  a 
Japanese  rose;  the  dusky  wild  strawberry  bloom  and 
olive  brown  of  her  cheeks  like  old  ivory — tawny  ivory 
of  an  ancient  miniature.  One  bare  arm  brown  enough 
and  of  peach-bloom  roundness  lay  listlessly  across  the 
soft  silken  black  brocade  that  covered  sheets  soft 
and  white  and  warm  blankets,  blankets  woven  of  the 
fleece  of  the  softest,  youngest  baby  lamb — all  these 

272 


BY  HER  BEDSIDE  273 

brought  from  Wrenne's  own  bed  in  the  Arbor  of 
Buddha's  Hand. 

On  one  side  sat  Van  Duykinck,  the  American 
doctor  and  on  the  other  the  English  surgeon,  Erasmus 
Bertram,  M.R.C.S.,  into  whose  keeping  Wrenne  had 
long  since  delivered  Bess.  An  American  nurse  in  uni- 
form hovered  uneasily  nearby.  With  Bertram  on 
the  other  side,  was  a  motherly  old  English  woman, 
his  unofficial  assistant.  At  the  foot  of  the  bed  one 
of  Wrenne's  chief  allies  among  the  Reformers, 
Chung,  a  grave  and  reverend  monk  of  Dalai  Lama's 
own  Lamassery  sat  cross-legged,  his  back  to  the  foot- 
board, eyes  turned  upward,  fingers  busy  with  an  an- 
cient and  elaborate  bit  of  inlaying  called  a  "prayer- 
wheel."  Almost  obscured  and  beside  the  drawn  cur- 
tain through  which  filtered  the  dusk  of  the  gray  morn- 
ing, was  Thsang,  stoic-eyed,  impassive  faced,  furtively 
feeding  with  prayer-papers  the  sullen  red  glow  of  a 
swinging  iron  brazier  in  which  burned  charcoal  and 
above  which  a  pan  of  water  bubbled  that  was  steri- 
lizing the  English  surgeon's  glass  syringe  and  steel 
needles.  .  .  . 

Slowly  Wrenne  crept  closer  to  the  bed.  The  Ameri- 
can vacated  his  place  as  he  approached,  refusing  to 
meet  his  gaze.  Bertram  also  turned  away,  joining 


274   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

Van  Duykinck  in  the  farthest  shadows.  But  all,  he 
knew,  high  or  humble,  watched  him,  shared  his 
woe.  .  .  . 

He  leaned  across  to  look  at  her  more  closely. 

"Bess,"  he  muttered  hoarsely.  "Forgive  me,  oh 
God  .  .  .  forgive  me — for  what  I  said  that  night — 
Bess."  And  then  like  the  sleeping  Beauty  in  the 
fairy  tale,  her  silken  lashes  trembled,  her  eyelids  flut- 
tered like  frightened  butterflies.  Her  dark  brown 
eyes  like  woodland  pools  deep  in  sedge,  the  starlight 
on  them,  were  suffused  with  an  even  darker  look  of 
pain  and  suffering. 

The  sight  of  him  seemed  to  trouble  her,  stirred 
something  deep  down  .  .  .  half-forgotten. 

"Hamilton,  did  you  say  you — forgave?" 

Her  lips  quivered  and  barely  moved;  that  was  all. 
But  somehow  he  heard  what  she  had  hardly  whis- 
pered; And  when  her  eyelids  drooped  again,  two 
tears,  like  tears  of  blood,  forced  their  way  from  their 
corners.  The  curling,  silken  lashes,  suddenly  wet,  lay 
closer  to  her  cheeks,  almost  as  if  they  were  painted 
there. 

"I  forgive?  Bess,  it  is  for  you  to  forgive — 
you  .  .  ." 

Suddenly  he  realized  he  had  deceived  himself;  she 


BY  HER  BEDSIDE  275 

had  not  spoken ;  he  had  only  thought  she  had ;  it  was 
the  sort  of  delusion  pain-wracked  minds  are  apt  to 
have. 

"Did  she  speak?    Did  she?" 

Neither  Van  Duykinck  nor  Bertram  answered,  but 
the  American  took  her  pulse  and  nodded  to  the  Eng- 
lishman, who  rubbed  her  arm  with  alcohol  and  injected 
morphine  from  the  glass  syringe. 

"Let  her  rest  a  moment.  Then  if  you  will  try  to 
get  her  to  open  her  mouth  at  least — even — even  if 
she  does  not  speak !"  He  heard  Bertram  whisper  it  as 
from  afar.  In  the  silence  that  followed,  Wrenne 
heard  Thsang  repeating  in  low  savage  tones,  some 
barbaric  prayer  to  Kwanyin,  and,  as  if  in  fear,  Bess' 
hands,  those  small  capable  hands,  helpless  now,  flut- 
tered toward  Wrenne.  As  they  clung,  clammy  with 
the  chill  of  fear,  his  voice  rose  and  fell  on  a  single 
poignant  note  of  animal  pain. 

".  .  .  Even  if  she  does  not  speak." 

He  turned  to  his  fellow  American.  "Can  she  speak? 
Do  you  know  the — "  he  could  not  say  it — "the  extent 
of  her  injury — and  what  can  be  done?" 

"We  have  tried  to  find  out  ever  since  we  were 
summoned,"  Van  Duykinck  whispered,  "but  she  keeps 
her  teeth  tightly  set.  Her  mind  is  like  an  infant's 


276   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

again.  She  does  not  remember  us.  You  have  been 
the  only  one  she  recognizes,  and  even  you  she's  evi- 
dently puzzled  about " 

Thus  the  American.  To  which  his  English  confrere 
added: 

"She  may  be  bleeding  internally.  How  can  we  tell  ? 
Speak  to  her  as  you  would  a  child.  She  recognizes 
your  authority.  We  dare  not  attempt  to  force  her — 
with  such  a  terrible  injury.  Yes,  Thsang  has  told  us." 

"Damn  and  double  damn  and  God  damn  their 
souls,"  the  American  broke  in  harshly. 

"I  will  speak  to  her  again,"  whispered  Wrenne. 
His  voice  was  that  of  an  old  and  broken  man.  He 
pressed  her  cold  hands. 

"My  darling,  my  darling.  Let  the  doctors  see. 
Speak  to  me ;  only  open  your  mouth — open  it  and  try, 
won't  you,  for  my  sake." 

Obediently  she  unlocked  her  lips  to  obey  him. 

"Now  Bertram,  now  Van  Duykinck — please,"  he 
sobbed,  and  turned  his  head  away.  Then  he  released 
her  hands.  Her  pale  lips  quivered  and  again  tears 
came  to  her  eyes. 

He  heard  the  low-pitched  persuasion  of  the  doctors. 
Evidently  she  had  acceded.  Some  technical  instruc- 
tions followed  from  Bertram.  Van  Duykinck  was 


BY  HER  BEDSIDE  277 

focusing  the  tall  contrivance  that  would  send  a  concen- 
trated ray  into  her  mouth  and  throat.  Wrenne  could 
see  the  ray  travel  swiftly  back  and  forth  on  the  ceiling 
like  a  sun-glass  in  the  hands  of  a  boy.  Then  .  .  . 
evidently  ...  it  was  focused. 

Wrenne  stood  as  one  stricken  into  stone.  He  could 
sense  the  fact  that  no  one  was  breathing  ...  no  one. 

A  startled  exclamation  from  Bertram;  a  jubilant 
cry  from  Van  Duykinck;  a  duet  of  incredible  amaze- 
ment. Silence  again;  the  heavy  intakes  of  breath  on 
the  part  of  all  in  the  room. 

"In  God's  name "  Wrenne  began,  not  daring  to 

turn  around.  His  shoulder  was  suddenly  twisted, 
himself  twirled  around,  Bertram  on  one  side,  the 
American  on  the  other. 

"Look,"  cried  the  latter,  "look — look — look." 

Without  so  much  as  "by  your  leave,"  he  put  one 
knee  on  the  great  bed  and  opened  Bess'  mouth  'twixt 
thumb  and  forefinger.  As  obediently  as  any  child  of 
six,  she  obeyed  his  order  to  keep  it  open,  looking 
eagerly  at  Wrenne  as  if  to  make  sure  she  was  pleasing 
him. 

Wrenne  stared.  Stared  piteously,  afraid  of  not 
understanding,  afraid  to  try  to  understand. 


278   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

"But — but — she  cannot  speak.  You  saw  her  try. 
They " 

The  American  crossed  swiftly  to  Wrenne's  side  to 
explain  their  theory.  He  spoke  in  tones  too  low  for 
her  to  hear. 

"Evidently  you  came  just  in  time  .  .  .  probably 
just  about  to  operate  .  .  .  was  the  anesthetist  .  .  . 
I  thought  so  ...  hold  the  cone  .  .  .  you  would  have 
remembered  if  the  surgeon's  scalpel  had  been  stained, 
wouldn't  you?  .  .  .  you  see  now,  eh?" 

To  each  and  every  question  of  the  American's, 
Bertram,  who  had  crossed  to  Wrenne's  left,  nodded 
affirmation. 

"But  you  must  understand,  old  dear,  that  her  last 
awful  thought  was  that  she  would  never  be  able  to 
speak  again,  d'you  see,  old  thing?  That  is  all  that  is 
wrong — quite." 

Thus  the  overjoyed  Englishman. 

"But  she  cannot " 

"Quite!  Quite.  But  you  see,  old  dear,  she — well 
so  to  speak — her  brain  is  still  anesthetized.  A  type 
of  temporary  amnesia,  not  exactly  uncommon.  Until 
she  comes  out  of  it — and  Van  and  I  will  immediately 
telegraph  Charcot  and  the  other  Johnnies  sharp — and 
do  our  best  to  overcome  this  idee  fixe — so  to  speak." 


BY  HER  BEDSIDE  279 

"You  see,"  explained  Van  Duykinck  again,  "she 
believes  she  can't  speak.  And  she  will  have  forgotten 
everything  and  everyone  except — apparently — you.'' 
But  Wrenne  heard  no  more.  His  face  buried  in 
the  pillow  beside  her,  he  had  quietly  fainted. 


CHAPTER  VI 
TOGETHER  ON  THE  GRAND  CANAL 

A  MONTH  or  more  after  the  bloodless  revolu- 
tion of  which  few  without  the  walls  of  the 
Three  Cities  were  aware,  and  not  many 
within,  a  Chinese  house-boat  was  sweeping  along  the 
Grand  Canal.  It  was  propelled  by  a  squat  you-lou, 
or  sweep  in  the  stern,  which  took  the  place  of  both 
oars  and  rudder  and  was  operated  by  barefooted  men 
who  worked  in  shifts  of  four  that  were  changed 
every  hour  by  the  laouta  or  captain.  He,  himself, 
took  his  orders  from  the  big  Manchu  Thsang.  When 
there  was  any  wind,  which  was  not  often,  the  great 
lateen  sail,  dyed  red,  shaped  like  a  leg  of  mutton, 
whose  spars  were  fastened  midway  along  a  stout  young 
pinetree  mast,  bellied  forward  and  flapped  sideways 
and  the  you-lou  men  ceased  from  their  perspiring 
labors. 

It  was  a  comfortable  craft,  shaped  like  any  ordi- 
nary pleasure  junk  outside,  but  with  plate-glassed  cur- 
tained windows  enclosing  the  living  quarters  of  its 


TOGETHER  ON  THE  GRAND  CANAL  281 

owner  and  his  wife — an  invalid  who  had  been  carried 
aboard  and  who  now  lay  on  a  many-cushioned  couch 
on  the  shady  port  side  of  the  salon.  The  glass  section 
that  walled  it  in  had  been  released  by  the  catch  and 
hung  diagonally.  Its  silken  curtains  drawn  aside,  she 
could  see,  from  where  she  lay,  all  the  life  of  the  Grand 
Canal,  that  great  artery  of  China. 

Boats — boats — boats.  Compared  to  the  Grand 
Canal,  the  Erie  is  but  a  brooklet  where  boys  sail  toy 
boats.  There  were  the  kickaway  boats  propelled  by 
treadmills  like  the  paddles  of  old  Mississippi  steamers ; 
treadmills  propelled  in  their  turn  by  the  naked  feet  of 
slaves.  There  were  the  big  silk  and  rice  junks,  huge, 
clumsy,  high  pooped,  like  the  caravels  the  brothers 
Pinzon  furnished  Columbus.  There  were  the  tanka 
girls  in  their  sampans,  a  type  of  clumsy  row-boat,  and 
the  sing-song  girls  in  their  gilded  water  chariots, 
lounging  luxuriously  upon  brilliant  cushions  beneath 
gorgeously  dyed  awnings.  More  than  often  both  of 
these  received  flatteries  and  profitable  inquiries  from 
the  glittering  mandarin  boats.  These  were  big  flat- 
bottomed  affairs;  their  glass  windows  painted  with 
cranes  and  peacocks  and  dragons.  Behind  one  of 
these  sat  the  Mandarin  himself,  either  ham-faced 
and  clean-shaven  or  thin  and  wizened  with  long 
straggling  Tartar  mustaches;  his  hat  like  an  inverted 


282   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

bowl  ornamented  with  the  crystal  button  or  peacock's 
feather  or  the  like,  his  hand  with  finger-nails  several 
inches  long  and  protected  by  guards  like  the  little  gold 
caps  with  which  dentists  cover  defective  teeth. 

The  invalid,  wife  of  the  owner  of  the  big  yantsu 
junk,  from  where  she  lay  on  the  couch  saw  these 
hands  with  the  gold-guarded  finger-nails,  point  fre- 
quently the  fan  they  held  so  languidly  in  the  direction 
of  some  carmine,  red-cheeked,  green-jaded,  glossy 
black-haired  sing-song  girl,  whose  henna-stained 
finger  nails  plucked  at  the  strings  of  her  san-hien. 
And,  remembering  the  painted  folk  of  the  Pleasure 
Palace,  Bess  Courtney  turned  her  head  away. 

No,  not  Bess  Courtney.  She  had  another  name 
now,  the  same  as  that  of  her  campanion,  the  man  who 
sat  on  the  silken  rug  at  her  feet,  one  hand  holding 
hers.  Together  during  hours  of  silence,  they  had 
watched  the  life  of  the  river,  and  that  of  the  flat 
surrounding  country,  long  stretches  of  green  rice-fields 
with  tiny  canals  everywhere  like  streaks  of  silver  when 
the  evening  shadows  fell.  Here  and  there  was  a  pi-lo, 
a  stone  obelisk  like  a  finger  pointed  to  heaven — which 
was  what  it  was,  intended  to  be;  for  it  was  there  to 
keep  devils  away.  Or  else  there  was  an  ornamental 
arch  leading  to  a  green  pleasance  above  the  river,  and 
gayly  painted  and  set  down  amid  dwarf  cypress  trees. 


TOGETHER  ON  THE  GRAND  CANAL     283 

And  every  ten  miles  or  so  was  an  Arbor,  a  resting 
place  for  the  rich;  a  flight  of  stone  steps,  the  lowest 
one  submerged  except  at  low  tide,  or  green  with  river 
slime ;  and  leading  to  an  inn,  approached  through  four 
pillars  of  imitation  red  lacquer,  holding  up  a  crenel- 
lated green  roof  that  curved  downward  to  meet  them, 
its  eaves  within  easy  reach  of  the  hand. 

It  was  nightfall  before  either  Bess  or  Wrenne  spoke, 
save  for  a  "Yes"  or  a  "No."  It  was  she  who  finally 
broke  the  silence. 

"So  you  risked  your  life — for  me — a  thief " 

"Don't,  Bess!" 

"And  married  me  before  I  could  explain;  married 
me  while  my  mind  was  like  a  child's — and  might  have 
remained  so  forever.  Hamilton,  Hamilton — what  a 
trump  you  are,  my  dear.  I'm  not  worthy  of  you 

"Don't  Bess,   don't.     It  is   I   who  am  unworthy. 

She  closed  his  lips  with  her  kisses. 

"I  never  knew  men  could  love  like  that.  Women, 
yes;  it  is  their  affair,  love.  But — me?  Don't  you 
want  me  to  explain  now,  dear  one;  explain  how  I 
came  to  be  the  thief  you  called  me " 

"Can't  you  ever  forgive  me  for  that?"  he  broke  in, 
hoarsely.  "Bess " 

"Wait,  Hamilton !    You  were  right.    I  was  a  thief. 


284   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

But  I  can  explain."  She  silenced  him  with  an  up- 
raised hand.  ''Yes,"  a  still,  small  voice  went  on, 
"I  can  explain.  That  Chinese  whose  picture  I  painted 
was  the  Chinese  I  took  home — at  Roland  Park 
that  day.  The  first  time  I  ever  saw  you,  Black 
Wrenne — you  do  remember? — years  ago.  Yes,  the 
one  Chu'un  spoke  of — the  exiled  mandarin.  And  he 
gave  me  the  keys.  You  knew  that.  I  told  you  long 
ago.  Afterward  he  died.  Well,  it  was  like  this. 
Before  I  thought  of  coming  here,  I  found  that  Austin 
had  taken  money  given  him  by  my  aunts — all  they 
had — and  lost  it  in  speculation.  We  were  very  poor. 
I  couldn't  make  it  up — and  it  was  all  they  had,  the 
poor  old  dears.  And  Austin  asked  me  to — use  the 
keys.  I  didn't  want  to  use  them,  Hamilton.  I  didn't 
want  to;  indeed,  I  didn't.  But  then  came  this  chance 
to  paint  the  picture — and — I  didn't  refuse.  Can't  you 
see?  It  was  the  family  shame — and  the  two  old 
women — my  aunts!  And  so  I  came.  And  then  I — 
grew  to  love  you,  Hamilton,  and  I  couldn't  bring  my- 
self to  use  them — couldn't.  But  while  you  were 
wounded  I  thought  of  our  prospects — how  little  we 
would  have  if  you  quitted  China.  And— oh — things 
were  so  unsettled.  And  there  are  so  many  dependent  on 
me.  So  I  went  that  night  to  th'e  temple  and  took  them 
— not  many — only  enough  to  repay  Aunt  Malvinia  and 


TOGETHER  ON  THE  GRAND  CANAL     285 

Aunt  Kitty,  and  something  over  for  us  to  use.  Can 
you  see — and  forgive?  After  all  we  promised  one 
another  that  glorious  night,  we  discovered  that  we — 
cared." 

He  raised  the  sleeve  of  his  coat  and  brushed  his 
eyes. 

"There  must  be  mutual  forgiveness,"  he  answered 
at  length.  "It  seems  both  of  us  promised  too  much 
that  night  we  found  we  loved  one  another.  Promised 
more  than  we  could  fulfill.  We  made  a  mistake — 
imagined  our  natures  were  to  be  utterly  changed. 
When  I  came  out  of  my  illness,  I,  too,  wondered  what 
we  should  do  away  from  China — saw  a  black  future 
for  us  both.  And  so  I  went  on  with  plotting.  I " 

He  faced  her. 

"Yes,  I  did.  I  who  raved  and  frothed  when  I  found 
you  on  the  steps  of  the  temple ;  I  who  denounced  you 
— God  forgive  me — as  a  thief  before  giving  you  a 
chance  to  explain;  I — I — had  gone  back  on  all  I  had 
promised  you  and  had  gone  on  with  the  plot.  The 
date  of  rising  was  set  for  that  very  night.  I  carried 
the  rockets  in  my  hands  which  would  give  the  signal 
for  the  Reformers  to  rise  throughout  the  Three  Cities. 
I  loved  you  dearly.  I  wanted  you  and  power  too. 
The  stars  put  strange  fancies  in  our  heads  that  night — 
let  us  blame  it  on  the  stars." 


286   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

She  put  both  hands  on  his  shoulders. 

"Hamilton,  you  do  love  me,  don't  you?" 

He  took  her  in  his  arms  and  his  lips  met  hers — 
hungrily. 

"You  see,  Bess,"  he  went  on,  "it  was  neither  the 
ideal  nor  the  physical.  I  couldn't  have  loved  the 
ideal — for  you  aren't  the  ideal  any  more  than  I  am, 
but  I  love  you  just  as  much.  We  have  confounded 
love  with  a  lot  of  musty  platitudes.  I  don't  love  you 
because  you're  good,  or  clever,  or  beautiful — but  just 
because  you're  Bess;  and  you — well,  I  suppose  you 
must  love  me  for  just  the  same  reason.  But  we  weren't 
satisfied  with  the  beautiful  thing  that  love  is  in  itself. 
We  had  to  tack  on  morals  and  fine  frenzies,  and  copy- 
book maxims — when  the  real  thing  is  so  far  beyond 
our  realization  that  when  we  tell  one  another  of  it, 
we've  only  three  puny,  paltry,  little  words:  words 
cheapened  and  debased  for  thousands  of  years,  by 
every  lecherous  rascal  in  the  world." 

"The  three  little  words  are  enough,"  she  breathed 
"when  you  say  them,  dear." 

When  she  looked  up  at  him  he  spoke,  telling  her  of 
the  plot,  the  occurrences  of  the  night,  the  deaths  of 
Chu'un  and  Ugichi ;  touched  lightly  on  her  rescue ;  her 
loss  of  all  memory  except  her  remembrance  of  him; 
their  marriage  when  the  doctors  said  her  memory 


TOGETHER  ON  THE  GRAND  CANAL     287 

might  sleep  for  years;  its  awakening  that  morning- — 
while  she  lay  in  his  arms. 

"And  now/'  he  concluded,  "Peking,  all  China,  is 
ours — for  the  moment  that  is.  Old  Yuan-Shi-Kai, 
China's  greatest  man  since  Confucius,  rules  in  the 
name  of  our  weakling  Emperor.  On  the  surface  all  is 
the  same.  The  new  China  is  with  us :  the  men  educated 
overseas,  at  Oxford,  Harvard,  St.  Cyr.  Not  damn 
fool  democrats,  thank  God.  China  will  never  split 
on  that  silly  rock.  Not  democratic  donkeys,  but 
benevolent  autocrats,  men  whose  one  thought  is 
to  give  the  best  that  is  in  them  to  their  country.  Since 
the  Old  She-Wolf's  attempt  to  murder  her  old-time 
puppet,  Kwang-Hsu,  has  been  discovered  (we  per- 
mitted her  assassin  to  get  within  reach  of  the  Emperor 
— apparently — before  we  nabbed  him)  ;  Tze-Hsi  is 
practically  a  prisoner.  Her  Pleasure-Palace  has  been 
taken  from  her  and  she  is  shut  up  in  the  Jehol — 
afar  from  Peking.  She  will  never  harm  us  again." 

"And  the  Emperor?" 

"Poor  puppet!"  said  Wrenne  somberly.  "But  he 
will  be  happier  now  than  he  ever  was  before.  The 
world  at  large  will  never  know  that  Kwang-Hsu  was 
forced,  practically,  to  abdicate  his  throne.  In  the 
sight  of  the  world  he  will  continue  emperor — but  over 


288   DOOR  OF  THE  DOUBLE  DRAGON 

a  different  China.  For  China  will  be  rid  at  last  of  the 
harpy,  Tze-Hsi,  who  has  sucked  its  blood  for  so  long." 

He  laughed  whimsically  as  he  turned  his  face  to  her. 

"And  so  good  comes  out  of  evil,  little  girl.  Good 
for  China  out  of  my  evil  and  yours.  It's  only  an 
ethical  thing,  this  question  of  right  and  wrong.  We 
are  safe  only  when  we  follow  our  strongest  instincts. 
If  I  had  abandoned  my  share  in  the  plot,  China  would 
have  been  given  over  to  Japan.  Had  you  renounced 
your  theft,  you  would  have  brought  starvation  and 
dishonor  on  your  family.  And  for  what?  That  a  pair 
of  idealistic  fools — ourselves — might  drift  aimlessly 
about  the  world  and  commend  our  consciences !" 

He  reflected  for  a  long  time  as  day  faded  into  the 
luminous  dark  of  a  night  of  stars,  their  light  reflected 
on  the  water  in  long  broken  lines  like  that  of  the  boat's 
multi-colored  lanterns. 

"And  in  time,"  he  said  reverently,  "when  the  peo- 
ple have  learned  enough,  there  will  be  some  sort 
of  a  real  republic — a  bloodless  one,  please  God.  And 
it  comes  so  much  the  sooner — because  I — we — were 
not — ethical,  Bess." 

"Thank  God  we  were  not!"  she  said,  soberly. 
"Thank  God  for  the  good  that  came  out  of  our  evil! 
And  thank  God  that  what  we  love  in  one  another  is 
what  we  are — a  willful  woman,  a  heavy-handed  man ! 


TOGETHER  ON  THE  GRAND  CANAL  289 

We  do  love  one    another  for  just  that — don't  we, 
dear?" 

He  raised  her  hands  to  his  lips,  and  they  sat  for  a 
long  time  in  the  starlit  darkness,  his  head  still  bowed 
over  them. 


THE   END 


A     000023779     2 


